Moments of Love
by Carouselina
Summary: A collection of humorous and sweet moments from the months when Ron and Hermione are expecting baby Rose.
1. Oops!

**Chapter 1: Oops!**

The gentle morning sun tapped at the window of a snug, vine-embroidered cottage. It was very quiet, and the curtains had been drawn close. This was very odd, for usually at least the bushy-haired occupant sat at the porch with a steaming cup of coffee and a fresh newspaper at this time of the morning.  
There was a narrow gap between the curtains, and determined to see what was going on, the sun slipped a ray through it. The ray fell on a bed with a cream-coloured duvet, under which lay two bumps, breathing evenly. The ray tickled a hand dangling over the edge of the bed, and the owner stirred. The familiar mass of brown hair emerged from under the duvet, bushier than ever, and the sun smiled. This was more like it.

x--x--x

Hermione stretched, yawning widely, and turned to look out of the window. The white curtains were a blazing sea of light; it promised to be another glorious spring day. She yawned again, which surprised her as she had slept rather well. But lately there had been a strange heaviness about her, an overpowering feeling of drowsiness.  
Ah! She perked up as she remembered a discussion from the previous day. That tip her boss had given her... She put one foot on the floor and shivered as the coolness brushed her toes. The warm bed had never been so inviting.

Ron moved a bit and opened one eye.

'Mornin',' he said sleepily and slid his hand on Hermione's tummy under the duvet. 'Where are you going?'

'To get the paper,' Hermione said. A pleasant shiver ran through her at Ron's touch, and she snuggled back into the sleepy warmness. Maybe she could wait for just a moment.

'Come on, it's Saturday,' Ron muttered and buried his head in her hair. 'No rush.'

'But Juliana said today's _Prophet_ might have a sneak peek of that new book about the history of the Gringotts goblins!' Hermione said eagerly.

'Hermione, Hermione,' Ron mumbled into her ear and pulled her close. 'Your husband has a much better proposition for you...'

Hermione smiled at the blue eyes flickering naughtily at her under locks of tousled red hair.

'Fine. But you'll have to listen to everything I say about the book afterwards, and not run off to play Quidditch with Harry,' she whispered.

'Promised,' Ron said solemnly, his hand wandering down her back. 'Now, come here...'

Quietness overtook the cosy little bedroom, save a few soft murmurs, and the sun withdrew its eyes politely. Newlyweds, always the same.

x--x--x

'This is so exciting!' Hermione said, propping the paper against the juice jug and balancing a sandwich on her knee. 'The book will include actual interviews of the goblins! They've never talked to anyone before! I have to get this book as soon as it comes out, and you know, Juliana said her uncle might get it for me with a discount!'

'Goblins,' Ron said and sipped his tea, looking amused. 'Is that your newest mission?'

'Well, they _are_ terribly isolated, and isolation is never good, as it breeds prejudice and narrow-mindedness,' Hermione replied thoughtfully.

Ron grinned and buttered himself another slice of bread.

'As long as you don't bring any home. Aren't you eating that sandwich?'

'Oh yes - maybe.' Hermione looked at the ham-covered slice of bread doubtfully. 'I'm just not that hungry now.'

'What's wrong? You didn't eat yesterday either.'

'I guess I'm too excited about the book,' Hermione said and caressed the photo in the _Daily Prophet_. It showed the publisher beaming and holding the book beside a surly-looking goblin.

'Well, give it to me then. We don't want to waste it,' Ron said and took the sandwich. 'Any other plans for today?'

'Ginny said she'd pop in, and I really have to do something about the guest bedroom; it's still full of boxes. You know, Muggles have this line of home furnishings called Laura Ashley, and it's really stylish and elegant. I'm wondering if wizards have something in the same style. Oh, and I brought home a couple of reports to read before Monday. And of course I still have those books and magazines Dad and Mum sent me.'

'Those books about Muggle politics and history? Don't you have enough to read in all the books we got as wedding gifts?'

'I want to keep up with the Muggle world,' Hermione said, blushing as she remembered the piles of books all around the living room. 'Besides, my job requires a lot of knowledge.'

'Sure.' Ron's eyes twinkled behind the tea cup. 'The biography of the Muggle Prime Minister and an in-depth look into the shopping habits of male wizards in the 18th century are absolutely essential.'

Hermione couldn't help laughing.

'You're the one to talk. Look at all the Quidditch gear in the shed!'

'I need good flying skills in my job,' Ron said unperturbed and ate Hermione's sandwich. 'It's imperative.'

A knock on the door interrupted Hermione's reply, and soon Ginny peeked in, Harry in tow.

'You're both still having breakfast! What's going on?'

Hermione glanced at Ron, whose ears had gone red. Harry nudged Ginny with grin.

'Don't ask things like that from newlyweds.'

Ron rushed up, his ears flaming, and downed the rest of his tea with one swig.

'Come on, Harry,' he grunted and disappeared to the hall.

Hermione pushed her coffee cup away, trying to look unbothered, even though she had a strange urge to burst into hysterical laughter. If Harry and Ginny had heard the things Ron had whispered to her only an hour earlier!

'So,' Ginny said and vacated Ron's seat. 'A late morning - ah, crumpets and Mum's jam. Can I have some?'

Hermione nodded, and Ginny scooped a generous amount of jam and butter on a crumpet.

'James kept me up again last night, and I was too tired to eat anything at breakfast.'

'Where is he?' Hermione asked and handed Ginny a napkin.

'Sleeping on the porch,' Ginny said through her mouthful and peeked out of the window. 'Harry's got him. You know, I swear the tot does it on purpose -keeps us up every night and naps happily all day long.'

'At least you can eat,' Hermione sighed. 'I couldn't eat a thing this morning or yesterday. I'm so tired, too. I think I must have a cold or something.'

'As a matter of fact...' Ginny tore off a piece of crumpet with a mischievous smile. 'I'm eating for two.'

'You're...?'

Ginny nodded, her eyes sparkling.

'Oh Ginny!' Hermione squeezed Ginny's arm affectionately. 'That's wonderful news!'

'Yes, although I must admit I'm a bit nervous about having two so soon. Harry's thrilled, though. So, when are you due?'

'What?' Hermione leaned back so quickly that her cup fell over.

'You're pregnant, too, aren't you?' Ginny said calmly and lifted the cup up. 'Mum says it's positively scary, but I tend to notice if someone has a bun in the oven, and I think you look just like it. Besides, didn't you say you were feeling tired and nauseous?'

But Hermione sat speechless, her elbow in the puddle of cold coffee. For once, her calculations had failed her -utterly and completely.


	2. The Pregnancy Test

**Chapter 2: The Pregnancy Test**

Hermione stood at the kitchen window and watched Ron tickle baby James's toes in the pram. He waved Harry and Ginny goodbye and walked to the porch, muddy and flushed from the exercise. The door banged and he came in, shaking his head.

'I think a bee flew in my hair.'

'Ron...'

'I saw it buzz straight at me. I tried to wave it away, but the sod just got tangled in my hair. Can you see it?'

'Ron, I'm...'

'Harry said there's nothing in there, but I swear I can still hear it buzzing.'

'_Ron, I'm pregnant!_'

'It might just -' Ron halted, his hands in his hair. 'What?'

'I - I think I'm pregnant,' Hermione repeated, fidgeting with her hands. 'I mean, I'm so tired all the time, and I feel nauseous in the mornings, and it would really make sense since we haven't, well, done anything to prevent it.'

'Pregnant?' Ron said in an odd voice. 'You're _pregnant?_'

Hermione nodded. Ron stared at her for a moment without saying a word, and Hermione was just about to tell him to say something, for heaven's sake, when she was enveloped in a bear hug and lifted off her feet.

'A baby!' Ron laughed and twirled her around. 'Woo-hoo! We're going to have a -' He stopped as suddenly as he had started and put Hermione carefully back down. 'Are you all right? I didn't hurt you or the baby, did I?'

'No, I'm fine,' Hermione said with a chuckle. 'Besides, it's not even a hundred-percent sure yet; I have to do a test first.'

'I think you better sit down,' Ron said stubbornly and steered Hermione to an armchair. 'We don't want to take any risks.'

Hermione felt dizzy enough to accept the offer and sink into the squishy chair. Ron immediately thrust a pillow behind her back, which amused her, but she kept a straight face.

'We have to buy a test,' she said. 'Although, there is a spell, too, but I'm not sure where I read about it, and it might take some time to learn it.'

'Let's buy a test, it's quicker. Where do we get one?' Ron asked, now setting Hermione's feet on a pouffe.

'The chemist. Oh, but you know, I'm pretty sure I've seen pregnancy tests at the grocers.'

They looked at each other, and Ron cleared his throat.

'Who's going to buy it?'

'I can do it,' Hermione said, but Ron flung a blanket over her legs.

'You stay here and rest. I'll go.'

'But you're even ashamed to buy toilet paper -how could you possibly buy a pregnancy test?' Hermione said teasingly.

Ron hassled with the blanket, his ears crimson.

'I'll think of something,' he muttered. 'D'you want some tea?'

'No, go on. I want to know as soon as possible.'

Ron grinned and hurried out after pressing a hasty kiss on her lips.

Hermione sat quite still for the whole time that Ron was away. She could always have read a report or a book, but she couldn't -not right now. Her whole body was strained to the maximum as she waited to hear steps in the garden.

After fifteen minutes, the door slammed and a beetroot Ron appeared in the doorway with two bulging bags.

'So, did a little shopping on the side, then?' Hermione said, her mouth twitching.

'Don't laugh,' Ron said darkly and dropped the bags. 'I thought that if I'd buy a lot of stuff, Mr Puttywhip wouldn't notice the test. But no, he _had_ to rush off to help Mrs Raines with the test in his hand. He was waving it about like a bloody madman!'

'Oh dear,' Hermione said and rose up to examine the bags. 'I told you I wouldn't have minded doing it. What's this? Five packets of...dried tomatoes?'

'At least I got the test,' Ron said and pulled a white packet from under a box of oats. 'And look at the bright side: we don't have to do any shopping for a couple of days.'

'Yes, if Molly has a recipe for oats and dried tomatoes,' Hermione began, but Ron tapped the test packet.

'Come on!'

They hurried over to the bathroom, and Hermione ripped the packet open with trembling hands. Inside was a folded sheet of instructions and a pale yellow stick.

'I think you're supposed to pee on that,' Ron said.

'I know, but I wonder...ah!' Hermione poked at the instructions. 'See here. _In order to find out whether you are pregnant or not, pee on the stick, point your wand at it, and use the Gestatus Spell. Instructions below. If the stick turns purple, you are pregnant. If it turns green, you are not pregnant_.'

'You'll want to wash your wand afterwards, though,' Ron said with a grin. 'Okay, shoot.'

'I can't do it if you're watching!' Hermione said indignantly and put the instructions in the sink.

'You've done worse things when I've watched...'

'Ron!'

'Ok, ok. But you better come out right away when you get the result.'

It took Hermione a few tries to get to the spell; she was simply too nervous to function effectively. The Gestatus Spell was easy, and as soon as she had done it, the colour of the white square in the stick changed. Hermione fumbled open the door, dropping her wand in the process, but she didn't care.

'Look!' She shoved the violently shaking stick under Ron's nose. 'It's purple! Really purple!'


	3. Books, Books, and More Books

**Chapter 3: Books, Books, and More Books**

'Excuse me.' Hermione peeked at the shop clerk over the pile of books in her hands. 'I heard about a book called _A Yesteryear Pregnancy_, and I was wondering if you had that. It's supposed to have all kinds of old folk remedies to help pregnancy-related symptoms.'

'Oh yes,' the clerk said and veered around the counter. 'It's been really popular as of late; I think it was featured in _Witch Weekly_ some months ago.'

Hermione followed the man into the maze of dusty, narrow shelves. It was Monday afternoon, and Flourish and Blotts was brimming with people, as the popular romance author Raymond Grimmlenschaffer had a new novel out, _The Dark Wizardess_.

'It should be somewhere here...' The clerk propped his spectacles up his nose and ran his finger along the volumes. 'Ah!' He pulled out a small, thick book with golden engravings on the spine and an image of a pot of herbs on the cover. 'This is the last one.'

'Thanks!' Hermione beamed and put the book on top of her pile. She could now hardly see over it, and she wobbled slightly as she followed the clerk back to the till.

The bell tinkled, and Ron's tall figure flashed by the door. He scanned the masses, spotted Hermione in no time, and made his way towards her.

'At least you're easy to find in a crowd,' he said with a grin. 'Just follow the highest pile of books. Seriously, you're not going to buy all of those?'

Hermione tipped the pile towards the counter and almost lost her balance, but Ron caught the top half of the stack.

'_So, You're Having a Boy!...So, You're Having a Girl!...So, You're Having Twins!...When Your Child Is a Squib...It's Never Too Early to Start Educating Your Child...Sing to Your Womb and Have a Happy Baby_...' Ron looked at Hermione, a mixture of disbelief and amusement on his face.

Hermione blushed and snatched the book from Ron's hand.

'I want to be prepared! Having a baby is a huge deal.'

'There's prepared, and there's madness,' Ron muttered, flipping through the books. '_How to Raise a Good Wizard or Witch...Prepare For Pain -A Realistic Look into Labour...How to Have a Fabulous Career AND a Fabulous Family ...My Child Blew Up the Microwave -Memories of a Muggle Mother_... Honestly, Hermione!'

'I'm going to lay off all my other books for a while,' Hermione said adamantly. 'I want to know as much as I can about every aspect of motherhood. And you know, I haven't even started on books on fatherhood yet!'

'Hmph,' Ron said and straightened the pile. 'I'll trust my natural instincts. Mum and Dad never read any books like this, and none of us turned loopy. Well, Percy might be a borderline case, but in principle.'

'But it won't hurt you either,' Hermione said and touched Ron's hand. 'Come on, do it for me.'

She had learned well enough the effect of a deep look and a few bats of eyelids on Ron. Quite honestly, the man was a textbook case.

'Fine,' Ron said. 'One book.'

Hermione rose on tiptoe and kissed Ron on the cheek, blowing gently in his ear.

'Okay, two books.'

Hermione glanced around; nobody was watching them as the clerk was opening another box containing shiny copies of _The Dark Wizardess_. She whispered something in Ron's ear that promptly caused his ears to go red.

'Three books, but no more. Blast it, woman, you're good.'

Hermione smirked and settled in the queue, holding out her Frequent Customer Card.

x--x--x

'So, sang to your womb yet?' Ron asked. 'Or do you want me to do it?'

Hermione, who was lying on the sofa and reading _It's Never Too Early to Start Educating Your Child_, looked at Ron reproachfully, although her lips twitched.

'You know Ron, the baby can hear surprisingly much in the womb. It wouldn't be a bad idea if you talked to it. Then it would learn to recognise your voice.'

'Really?' Ron sat at Hermione's feet and looked at her tummy doubtfully.

'Mhm. It says so here, and I've read it before, too. And you know, there have been studies that suggest playing Mozart to your baby might increase the baby's level of intelligence!'

'Mozart?'

'A Muggle composer. Mum promised to bring me a portable CD player and some CDs of his music next weekend.'

'Right, Muggle stuff,' Ron said distractedly. He squirmed himself beside Hermione and pressed his ear on her tummy. 'You in there, tot?'

'Why don't you try singing to it?' Hermione asked, biting her lips hard. 'You have quite nice voice, you know.'

Ron looked at her, his chin propped on her tummy.

'But it's just a tiny embryo at this point, isn't it? I don't think it could hear me yet.'

'You can still try.'

Ron pulled up the hem of Hermione's jumper. His lips brushed the warm skin, and Hermione started.

'No naughtiness,' she whispered.

Ron's eyes made no promises, and he pressed several soft kisses around her navel.

'I'm getting there. I'm just warming up...'

'Ron...'

'Mmm, yes, I'm thinking of a song...'

'This is _really_ supposed to be for the baby...'

'Of course...but what's good for the Mummy is good for the baby...'

Hermione could say no more. When she stood up many moments later, she realised there had been no singing whatsoever.


	4. Pukedom

**Chapter 4: Pukedom**

Hermione grabbed the edges of the toilet and retched violently, her whole body covered in cold sweat. It was dark and quiet; she had had to rush to the bathroom almost straight from sleep. Ron hadn't noticed, and she had no strength to call for him.

She groped the sink with her hand, looking for the tap, and her hand knocked something down. Glass clinked against porcelain, and she realised she had broken the bottle of Ron's favourite aftershave.

'Oh...' She hesitated, but then decided that the occasion warranted a bad word. One of Ron's favourites would do well -and it was not too strong.

'_Bloody_ bottle!'

She tried to pull herself up, but the world spun around her, and she sank to the floor.

'Ron,' she said desperately. 'Ron, wake up!'

But steps were already walking towards the bathroom. The door opened and Ron came in, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

'What the - Hermione, is something wrong?'

'Morning sickness,' Hermione sobbed. 'And it's all your...bloody fault...'

As she spoke, the strong smell of the aftershave filled her nostrils, and she could feel the burning rising in her throat.

'Watch out!'

She turned around at the last moment, and a fresh batch of vomit flew into the toilet. Her head was dizzy and achy, but she was vaguely aware of a strong hold under her arms. Water flowed, and something cool and wet brushed against her mouth.

'There you go,' Ron said and threw the wet towel in the sink. He put his arms around her, and they sat on the cool floor quite silently. Hermione tried to force her mind away from her churning tummy by listening to the faint chirping of the early morning birds and enjoying the warmth of Ron's chest.

'I'm sorry I blamed you,' she said when the worst wave of nausea had passed. 'It's not your fault.'

'Nah, don't apologise. That looked pretty awful,' Ron said, stroking her arms. 'But did I really hear you _swear_?'

Hermione blushed in the darkness.

'Yes,' she said in a small voice. She could feel Ron shaking, and as she looked up, she saw that his body was wobbling with inaudible laughter.

'Don't you laugh, Ronald Weasley! I have a feeling you'll hear much worse things from me before the baby arrives.'

'I guess it is true, then,' Ron said, biting his lower lip. 'I really _am_ a bad influence on you.'

And then it was his turn to whisper something in her ear that made her cheeks go quite pink.

x--x--x

The croissant was watching her. Even though she was writing frantically and not looking at it, she could sense the thick flakiness and smell the putrid, greasy smell. A slice of ham flopped to the table from its depths, glimmering under the bright lights of the office.

'Hermione, dear.' Juliana entered the room holding a stack of papers. 'I finally got that report from the French Ministry, and - are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' Hermione said huskily.

'You're terribly pale,' Juliana said and laid the papers on the desk. 'Aren't you eating that croissant? They're absolutely delicious, by the way; I'm so glad the Ministry finally changed the caterer. Miss Tuffington was a good cook in her day, but bless her, after her 127th birthday she did get a bit blind. I swear I once found a slice of carrot in my custard!'

'Please.' Hermione closed her eyes. Carrot and custard... Her tummy had started burning ominously, and she took a quick sip of daisy cordial from the "I love Ronald" mug that Ron had given her on her first day at the office. _A Yesteryear Pregnancy_ had recommended daisy cordial for morning sickness, and it did in fact help a bit. Molly had brewed her ten huge bottles, but she was already on the eighth one.

'Should I call the nurse?' Juliana leaned over Hermione and felt her brow. Her perfume wafted in Hermione's nose, strong and spicy. 'You aren't too hot, though.'

'It's m-morning -' But Hermione couldn't get the words out; paired with the nasty pastry, the smell was just too much. She rushed up, knocking her elbow against Juliana's stomach, and ran to the loo. Fortunately, it was right by her office.

'Hermione?' Juliana opened the door and peeked in. 'Are you sick?'

'Just morning sickness,' Hermione breathed. She held her hands under the ice-cold water and dabbed it on her face.

'Oh no, I'm sorry. Can I do something?'

'No, thanks. Or, actually, yes. I think I'll work from here today, so could you bring me that report and my mug and the bottle beside it?'

'Of course.'

Hermione sank on the toilet and waited. After a couple of minutes, Juliana came in, put the mug and the bottle on a wicker table under the towels, and handed Hermione the report.

'I think you should go home, though. You're as white as snow.'

Hermione shook her head.

'It's the same everywhere. And Ron is on an all-day mission in the north, and I don't want to be alone in this condition.'

'I see. But you let me know right away if you need help.'

'I will.' Hermione leaned against the wall in agony, but her mouth stretched into a reluctant smile as her eyes caught the mug. A picture of Ron was smiling and winking vigorously at her under the flashing red and yellow text.

'Oh, and one more thing, Juliana...' She turned to look at the door that was already closing. 'Could you please destroy that rotten croissant?'

x--x--x

'Everything is looking good here,' the nurse said and closed a brown manilla file with a snap. 'And since you're now on your 12th week, it means morning sickness should be over soon.'

'Oh, I do think it's passing already,' Hermione said enthusiastically. 'I've been really well these past days. And I think I can already feel a bump!'

'Which she has been showing off to every visitor,' Ron added from the chair next to Hermione. 'My Mum, my Dad, her parents, all my brothers, her cousins, and the clerk at Flourish and Blotts.'

'Well, there definitely _is_ a small bump! Don't you agree?' Hermione stroked her flat tummy. '_Pregnancy Week by Week_ says that it's completely possible to see the bump at this stage.'

'Er, yes, in some cases,' the nurse said, looking slightly dazed.

'Then again, it's my kid and I'm pretty buff,' Ron said conversationally and glanced down at his body. 'It might be a 13-pound porker.'

The nurse coughed and picked up a quill.

'Yes, well, like I said, Mrs Weasley is in perfect health, and the baby is fine, too. Here's a card with the time of your next appointment.'

'Thanks!' Hermione beamed. 'Actually, I wanted to ask you something. I read that there is a spell that can reveal the sex of the baby. Is that true?'

'There is a spell, yes, but we don't use it and we most certainly don't recommend it. Any spell that pierces such a delicate thing as the womb is highly risky.'

'Oh,' Hermione said. 'Well, it'll be a surprise, then.'

Ron grinned.

'Not a big fan of surprises, our Hermione. She'd like to be fully prepared for every possible situation.'

'I'm afraid that is impossible right now,' the nurse said with a smile. 'We'll know only after six more months.'

Hermione let out a small, sad sort of sigh.


	5. Pink or Not? Shopping at Magical Babies

**Chapter 5: Pink or not? Shopping at Magical Babies**

Ron opened the door to a spacious shop with pastel-coloured walls and dancing stars hanging from the ceiling. Even during lunch hour, Magical Babies was packed with people: huge-bellied women fingering baby clothes, men running after wild toddlers, and couples checking out squeaky new prams.

'It's lovely!' Hermione pulled the strap of her bag higher up on her shoulder and looked around, her eyes shining.

'Very nice,' Ron agreed and squeezed a plush cat toy on a shimmering golden shelf. 'So, what do we buy? Clothes? Nappies? Dummies?'

Hermione took out a piece of parchment.

'_Practical Pregnancy_ had an example list of what to buy before the baby arrives, and I copied it down. I know Molly has made some very nice clothes for the baby, but you know, they're rather...' She squirmed on the spot, eyeing a peach-coloured sleepsuit doing a little dance in midair in front of them.

'Old-fashioned?' Ron said, following her gaze. 'Boring?'

'Well, a bit old-fashioned, yes. I mean, I'm really thankful for them, but I'd like to get some other clothes, too.'

'Don't worry, I think Mum'll understand as long as she sees the baby in her clothes every now and then.'

'That's just what I thought. Besides, the clothes that Molly made will do very nicely as outside clothes, as they're pretty sturdy and the fabric won't show stains that well.'

'Good idea. So, what say you if we split now and both choose some stuff?'

'But you don't know much about shopping for a baby,' Hermione said slowly.

'What's there to know? I'll just check the size -yes, I know it's "newborn"- and that's it.'

'Hmph,' Hermione said, but Ron was already walking away, whistling happily.

x--x--x

After three quarters of an hour, Hermione returned to the same spot, carrying two full shopping baskets. Ron was not there yet, but after a couple of minutes, Hermione saw a very tall and a very pink tower tottering towards her. It was Ron holding so many pink garments that only a tuft of his hair was visible on the top.

'This place is great,' Ron said and laid the pile on a display table where multi-coloured teddy bears were playing drums. 'I've never seen so many sweet things in my life.'

'Yes, but...' Hermione hesitated, flipping through the pile. 'Ron, these are _all_ pink.'

'Only the best for our princess!' Ron beamed. 'I chose the ones that had the most glitter and frills. Look at the lace collar in this dress. It even sings a song!'

Hermione swallowed and forced out a smile.

'Er, right. But Ron, have you thought that it might be a _prince_?'

Ron looked so flabbergasted that Hermione had to smile.

'And besides, don't you think some of these are rather...over-the-top?'

'Girls are supposed to have frills,' Ron said stubbornly and lifted up a tiny pink shirt with thick layers of glittering lace at the sleeves. 'And my girl will have the best frills.'

'But what if it's a boy? Because I definitely think it might be a boy. _Know Your Belly_ says that if the bump is very high, it's a boy, and mine undeniably is. And it also says that morning sickness is worse when you're expecting a boy.'

'Mum said it's most certainly a girl,' Ron said. 'And I have a gut feeling that it's a girl. Besides, your bump is too small yet to say whether it's high or low.'

'Molly made her prediction based on the shape of the bump, too!'

'It's a completely different thing.'

Hermione groaned and lifted her baskets on the table.

'Well, I won't have my child going around looking like a clown. Here, I chose sensible, good quality clothes.'

Ron picked up a pair of trousers and a jacket.

'Muted green and brown? These are no different from the rags Mum's been making!'

'It's quality fabric, and it's a well-known brand,' Hermione said and flipped to the backside of the trousers. 'This will last at least two kids.'

'You want to dress _all_ our children like midgets from Azkaban?' Ron asked, horrified. 'Babies are supposed to look pretty!'

Hermione ground her teeth and snatched a dress from Ron's pile.

'Look at these crystals! They will not only fall off really easily, but they're also dangerous because the baby might swallow them. And this fabric is flimsy; it will bleed colour in the first wash and probably stretch a lot, too.'

'Pfth, they wouldn't sell dangerous clothes here,' Ron said and seized a dungaree from Hermione's basket. 'Dark blue with two grey stripes? The baby'll have clinical depression before it's weaned!'

'It's from "WitchKid", and they're the best brand around. All their clothes are handmade right here in Britain. None of these imported cheap things,' Hermione said furiously and picked a velvet pinafore dress from Ron's pile. 'Look here, "Made in Thailand"! This will probably last a month!'

'I'm not dressing my baby in ugly clothes!' Ron retorted and threw the dungaree back in the basket. 'I had enough of that as a kid. We have money; we can always buy more clothes!'

They stared at each other, both steaming and absolutely refusing to give in. People passed them, looking at the piles of clothes curiously but soon sidling away from the crackling atmosphere.

'Ron, I understand that you want things to be different from your childhood, and I know you only want the best for your child. But we really have to use some common sense,' Hermione said finally.

'Yes, but who says sense means dull,' Ron began, but he was cut off by a familiar-sounding voice.

'Hermione? Ron? I thought it was you!'

A dark-haired woman stood behind them, holding a small white playsuit.

'Parvati?' Hermione moved closer. 'It's been so long! How are you?'

'I'm fine,' Parvati said, but she looked slightly pale. 'And you? I heard you're working at the Ministry.'

'Yes, I'm in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and Ron's in the Auror department. Where are you nowadays?'

'I'm a healer at St Mungo's.'

'That's wonderful,' Hermione said encouragingly, as Parvati seemed a little cast down. 'Oh, is that a wedding ring I see?'

'Yes.' Parvati raised her ring finger to show a diamond-tipped gold ring. 'I met Henry at St Mungo's; he's a mediwizard. I read in the _Prophet_ that you two got married as well?'

'Yep, eight months ago,' Ron said.

'Congratulations.' Parvati's eyes brushed at the piles of baby clothes. 'So, are you...?'

'Expecting, yes.' Hermione smiled and nudged the little playsuit. 'And looks like you're, too! Congratulations!'

Parvati's eyes clouded, and she squeezed the garment tighter.

'No, actually I'm not. I'm returning this.'

'Oh, is it too small?' Hermione asked confusedly.

'No,' Parvati said, speaking in barely a whisper. 'We...we lost the baby before it was born. I bought this three months ago, but I hope they'll still take it back. I haven't really been up to...well, you know.'

Hermione was so shocked she couldn't say a word for a full minute, but luckily Ron steered the conversation to safer topics. Parvati left soon, and Hermione felt more miserable than ever even during the worst moments of her morning sickness as she looked at Parvati's forlorn back. She slipped her hand in Ron's, and they looked at each other for a while. Their words came out at the exact same time.

'Let's take them all.'


	6. Hey, Where's My Sausage?

**Chapter 6: Hey, Where's My Sausage?**

'What's wrong with Ron?' Ginny asked and settled on the sofa with a bowl of honey snacks. 'He looks like he's about to lose his meal.'

'Oh, he's just reading a book I gave him,' Hermione said and popped a piece of chocolate in her mouth. '_The Book of Labour_.'

Harry propped baby James higher on his shoulder and went to take a look. Ron made a whinging noise as Harry leaned over him.

'Oh dear, Hermione.' Harry wrinkled his nose. 'This has wide open photos of the whole, er, event.'

Ron let out another moan.

'Of course,' Hermione said and cut herself a slice from the cake Ginny had brought along. 'I thought it's best that he knows all of what's coming.'

A woman's shrill cry echoed from the book, and Ron winced. Ginny stood up and went to peek over Ron's other shoulder. She jumped as a painful groan shook the whole book.

'I think a softer approach might have been better,' Harry said. 'This thing shows, well, everything and in full colour photos.'

'With a voice to go,' Ron whispered, his cheeks deadly pale.

'Poor Ron.' Ginny brushed at Ron's mop of hair. 'See Hermione, now you've scared him so badly that this baby may be the only one he'll ever want to have.'

'Nay, once he gets to hold the baby, he'll forget everything about labour,' Hermione said matter-of-factly and ate a banana. '_Male Responses to Childbirth_ says it's the most common scenario.'

Ginny exchanged a look with Harry, who bit his lip and went to deposit the sleeping James in his pram.

'You know, Hermione, Harry never saw any of that.' Ginny indicated the book. 'He was on my side, holding my hand. Hey, where's my pie?'

'Oh, sorry, I thought you didn't want it, so I ate it,' Hermione said, licking her fingers. 'Harry, you want those honey snacks?'

'Yes!' Harry hurried over and rescued his plate from Hermione's hands, which had already stretched towards it. 'Come on, Ron, let the book be and have something to eat.'

Ron raised his wide eyes, and his mouth opened and closed a few times. He put the book carefully on the side table and stood up, his eyes still round and his face ashen. Hermione patted the chair beside her and pushed a glass of Butterbeer towards Ron.

'How can you...' Ron swallowed. 'How can you _eat_ after just looking at that stuff?'

'It's the most natural thing in the world,' Hermione said brightly. 'Childbirth is a wonderful yet complicated thing, and it's good to be fully prepared. Did you notice the section about possible complications? It has the most fascinating photos of a breech birth. It means that the baby's born with the buttocks first -'

'Hermione, please,' Ron said weakly and downed the Butterbeer. 'You've already made sure that we'll sleep in separate beds from now on until we die.'

Harry coughed into his Butterbeer and slapped Ron gently on the back.

'Come on, mate, it's not that bad. You'll stand on her side, holding her hand and humbly agreeing to all the accusations she's screaming at you for putting her in this situation. You won't be seeing any of the scary stuff unless you absolutely want to.'

Ron grunted and re-filled his glass. Hermione plopped a roasted sausage on Ron's plate, and Ron picked it up looking at it as if it had been a decaying snake.

'Why don't we talk about something else,' Ginny suggested. 'Have you bought anything new for the baby?'

'Oh yes!' Hermione said through a mouthful of sausage and went to a cupboard by the window. 'I bought some socks and this hat, and Ron got these fur booties and the nicest bib, look. It lets out a tinkle every time food drops on it.'

Ginny cleared her throat.

'That's nice. Bet you'll be hearing lots of tinkles.'

'I kind of miss all the fuss,' Harry said wistfully. 'It seems that we don't hassle half as much now as with James. We already have all the basics and more, and Ginny's been doing really well, too.'

'Yes, I haven't even had any morning sickness or strange urges,' Ginny said, watching Hermione return to the table and spear a piece of sausage and a piece of pie with her fork.

'You eating that, Ron?' Hermione nodded to the sausage in Ron's hand.

'What?' Ron startled.

'Never mind,' Hermione said, and before Ron could blink, she had popped the sausage in her mouth. Ron didn't seem to care; he was flicking his eyes from his glass to baby James's pram and the mountains of baby stuff on a table near the corner. His expression softened as his eyes caught a heap of plush toys squished between a padded bouncer and a bunny mobile.

'You know, your baby will probably be the world's only baby dressed in a pink, frilly dress one day and an army-green sleepsuit the next day,' Harry said. 'I understand you wanted the cutesy stuff, right, Ron? What if it's a boy?'

'I'm sure we'll have a girl at some point,' Ron said with a shrug. 'Hey, where's my sausage?'

'Sorry, they're all gone,' Hermione said, licking her knife. 'Here, have the last piece of chocolate. I can't understand how we can be almost out of everything when I went to the grocers only the day before yesterday.'

'Yes, it's a real mystery,' Ginny said mischievously and went to browse through the piles of baby clothes. 'You sure have a lot of clothes already. I hope the poor baby won't be completely confused by the clashing colours and styles.'

'We can always mix; put on a pink hat with a grey playsuit,' Ron said, more like his usual self. 'I think the tot's going to be a perfect blend of Hermione's brains and sense and my sportiness and fabulous sense of humour. Completely mental, of course.'

'I have no doubt that our baby will be entirely normal,' Hermione said, her eyes scanning the table feverishly. 'I thought I saw one more of those nut rolls...'

'Nah, mental's good,' Ron said fondly and caressed Hermione's knee. 'I like mental.'

Harry snorted into his glass, and Hermione's mouth twitched. She took the last slice of pie and looked at Ginny and Harry, cocking her head.

'By the way, did I tell you that I've started reciting Arithmancy to the baby every night?'


	7. Elspeth or Thaddeus?

**Chapter 7: Elspeth or Thaddeus?**

Hermione slipped into a comfortable nightgown and brushed her hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Her frizzes stuck up, down, left, and right, but she hardly noticed them. She examined her waist in the mirror and slid her hands on her belly to stroke her bump affectionately. It was quite visible now, and she couldn't bend as easily as before.

She blew the candle and closed the door behind her. Ron was already in bed, reading the latest issue of _Quidditch Monthly_.

'Did you know that the Cannons have managed to get Edward Foxton as their new beater?' he asked and flipped the magazine aside so that he could see Hermione. 'He's brill! I think the Cannons are on their way to winning the League Cup now.'

'I'm sure they are,' Hermione said absent-mindedly and dove into the warm bed. She pushed her head under Ron's arm and snuggled against his chest.

'Ron, I've been thinking...'

'We're not going to buy mini loudspeakers so that you can strap them on your belly and play that Mustard bloke to the baby all the time.'

'Mozart,' Hermione said with a snort. 'And no, that's not what I had in mind. Although, stimulating the baby while it's still in the womb _has_ been proven highly beneficial, and mini loudspeakers aren't _that_ expensive -'

'Hermione, no.'

'Oh, fine. But actually, I wanted to talk about baby names. Have you thought about them yet?'

Ron's eyes lit up, and he whisked the Quidditch magazine on the night table.

'Yes, and I have the best names! Listen to this: Christabelle if it's a girl and Thaddeus if it's a boy.'

'Um, right...' Hermione bit her lip.

'What, you laughing?'

'Not at all, but my son will not be called Thaddeus, and my daughter will most certainly not be Christabelle.'

'Why not? Christabelle is a pretty name for a girl, and just think about "Thaddeus Weasley". It even rhymes!'

'Christabelle sounds like a princess in a fairytale, and Thaddeus -' Hermione shuddered. 'It sounds like a creepy Victorian butler. I think the names should be short and sensible.'

Ron let out a disbelieving "pfth!", but Hermione pressed her finger on his lips.

'Listen, how about Sophia for a girl and Hugo for a boy?'

'Hugo? Do you _want_ our kids to be bullied even before they go to Hogwarts?'

'No! That's the name of one of my favourite Muggle authors. Vi-, oh well, never mind.'

'What author? Hugo who?'

'Er, nobody, really.' Hermione winced and turned on her back. 'Ouch, this belly is starting to be a bit uncomfortable. Besides, Hugo is a sophisticated name, and it has a nice old English ring to it.'

Ron turned on his side with a thoughtful expression and caressed Hermione's belly. It sent shivers of pleasure through Hermione, and she hoped that Ron's meditative moment would be a long one. Ron shot her a suspicious look, and his lips curled into a naughty smile.

'Names first, Ron,' Hermione whispered and guided his hand away from where it had been creeping to.

'Fine, fine,' Ron said, still grinning rather wickedly. 'Sophia's not too bad, but I could swear there's a dreadful old bat in the family tree by the name of Sophia. I could never say that name without feeling that I'm raising a girl who's destined to become a dusty old maid.'

'Well, the baby is definitely _not_ going to be Christabelle.'

Ron gazed out of the window, still stroking Hermione's bump.

'What about Clementine? Little Clementine Weasley. Think how adorable that would be.'

'It's a fruit!'

'Elspeth, then?'

'No, a grandma!'

'Prudence?'

'Oh, Ron!' Hermione groaned. 'Where did you get these names? They all sound like our grandparents' generation.'

'But if we named the tot Prudence, it might encourage her to keep away from the boys. Not that I'll let my daughter date before she's twenty-five or so, but it won't do any harm to hammer the point even before that.'

'Ron, do you realise what age _we_ are?'

'Of course, but we're different. I'll be damned if hormonal boys get their filthy hands on little Prudence.'

'Ron, be serious. What about Naomi?'

'That sounds like women's body lotion. _"Naomi will leave your skin silky with a faint aroma of peach..."_ Wilhelmina?'

'That's Elspeth's sister!'

'Okay, Theodora?'

'Their _mother_.' Hermione half-chuckled and half-grunted, and pulled herself higher on the pillow. Ron tucked it more firmly under her back, and they stared at the ceiling for a while in silence.

'Maybe we could set some general standards and try to find a name we both like that way,' Ron said finally. 'For example, it can't be too old-fashioned, and it can't be too long. But it also can't be too modern, and it must be sweet and girly.'

Hermione smiled and lifted her hand to graze Ron's bottom lip.

'You're still assuming it's a girl. It could be a boy, and all this could be useless. What requirements would we have for a boy's name?'

'Well, it must be enormously manly, of course, none of that fancy nancy stuff like "Byron". Something strong and clear.'

'And it should have a sophisticated ring to it,' Hermione said contemplatively. 'It must be fit for a professor.'

'Or a professional Quidditch player.'

'Or a genius pianist.'

'Or a skilful Auror.'

They looked at each other, lips trembling, and burst out laughing.

'Oh Ron,' Hermione giggled into his armpit. 'We're never going to find a name fit for all those!'

'Hey!' Ron wriggled. 'You're tickling me!'

Hermione's eyes flashed and she halted, looking up to Ron's face with a rather predatory smile.

'Oh, I _did_? Well, you deserve it after such names. Here's for Christabelle...'

Ron squealed as Hermione blew softly into his armpit and drew her finger teasingly along his side under his T-shirt.

'And here's for Clementine...'

'Stop it!'

'And for little Elspeth... '

'You're killing me!'

'...and for proper Prudence...'

Hermione was about to tickle Ron again when his hands seized her wrists and locked her softly against the mattress.

'I see you're quite good at this torture business,' he whispered, blue eyes twinkling. 'Too bad that what goes around, comes around...'

x--x--x

Much later, when they were snuggled up together and half asleep, Ron raised his head from Hermione's shoulder.

'Hermione, I've got it. _Ronalda_.'

'Ron, I love you, but no. Just no.'


	8. Of Mucus Plugs and Gigantic Sausages

**Chapter 8: Of Mucus Plugs and Gigantic Sausages**

'Oh, come on, Ron!' Hermione tugged at the strings of Ron's pyjama trousers.

'I can't!' Ron hissed and shoved her hand aside. 'The baby'll see it!'

'No, it won't!'

'I'm _not_ going to scar our baby for life!'

Hermione groaned and whisked a pillow on the floor. Ron was staring stubbornly at the ceiling, his hands clamped tightly on the front of his trousers. Hermione took a deep breath. Obviously, a different approach was needed -one that usually worked every time. She turned her head to Ron and smiled as naughtily as she could, brushing gently at his bare tummy.

'You want to...I know you do...'

'Of course I do,' Ron grunted and pushed Hermione's hand aside. 'I've been lashing out on Harry at work all the time because I'm so frustrated, but I can't. It'd be wrong and weird, and...just wrong!'

'Ron, trust me, I've read a million books and they all say that there's nothing wrong with it. It relaxes the mother, and when the mother feels good, the baby feels good.'

'How do they know the baby won't be freaked out?' Ron retorted. 'Have they asked a fetus?'

Hermione bit her lip, but a snort escaped her anyway. It seemed to annoy Ron, who turned on his side.

'Excuse me, but if I was a fetus in a nice, warm womb, I'd be scared out of my wits to see a big slimy thing poke in!'

That was it. Hermione burst out laughing so hard that a few drops of pee squirted out. She wrenched herself up, fanning herself with her hand, and dashed to the bathroom. Ron followed her and leaned against the wall as she changed into clean knickers.

'I don't see the fun in this. Come on, it's a _person_.'

'Ron, it doesn't have complex mental processes yet, and it can't see outside the womb. Besides, there's a mucus plug that seals the womb, so you couldn't possibly "hit" it.'

'Mucus plug? Way to turn your husband on.'

'Don't try that with me. You are turned on,' Hermione said and pressed herself against Ron. 'Oh yes, no doubt about that.'

Ron seized her hands and tried to get away, but Hermione caught a hold of the waist of his pyjama trousers.

'Come on, big boy,' she whispered and slid her hand on his back. 'It's been such a long time...'

'Hermione!' Ron wriggled furiously, but Hermione continued caressing him so that his eyes grew unfocused. 'Yes, come on, Ron...we've done this numerous times when I've been pregnant...'

'Yes, but that was before you showed me that Muggle ultimatum you had done with your Mum,' Ron muttered, his eyes closed.

'Ultrasound,' Hermione corrected.

'Whatever. It was a real human being in that picture, with eyes and everything. Don't you see how wrong and mentally scarring it would be for the tot?' With that, Ron struggled away and fled to the bedroom. Hermione drew a deep breath and followed him. He had gone back to bed, and Hermione stopped by his side, her hands on her hips.

'Stop mucking around and do it, Ronald Weasley! The baby won't be aware of it in any other way than a nice, rocking movement. It will be _good_.'

'Hermione,' Ron said in a dignified voice. 'What will you say if the kid starts having frequent nightmares of a gigantic sausage? What explanation do you have for that, eh? _"Sorry, darling, it's just that Dad couldn't keep his hands off me while I was pregnant. Hope you develop a healthy sense of body, sweetie!"_'

Hermione ground her teeth and whirled around. She strode to the living room and started rummaging through the shelf that was full of pregnancy-related books. After a minute or so, she found what she was looking for and took the book to the bedroom. Before Ron could say a thing, she sat on him and opened the book.

'Don't you dare push me away! You're listening now.'

Ron shot her a suspicious look and pulled the hem of her nightgown further down towards her knees.

'See, here.' Hermione turned the book around and tapped at a passage. 'Read that...yes, what does it say? "Extensive studies have confirmed that normal marital functions have no negative effects on the baby, quite the contrary." And Muggle studies say the very same thing!'

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione pressed her finger on his lips.

'And if it caused children nightmares of gigantic sausages, then ninety-nine percent of the population would suffer of them. Do you really think your Mum and Dad didn't -'

'Don't!' Ron said with a suffering look. 'Don't go there.'

'Ever had a sausage-related nightmare?'

Ron said nothing, but his lips twitched, and they stared at each other for a while in silence. Then Hermione put away the book and leaned to kiss Ron. He responded hesitantly and slid his hands in her hair.

'But what if I hurt it?' he whispered against her mouth. 'What we get a baby with a hole in the head?'

'Two words: mucus plug. Come on, now, Daddy...'

x--x--x

'You okay, Hermione?' Ron brushed the hair anxiously from Hermione's face. 'Is the baby okay?' He pressed his ear on Hermione's tummy and listened for a while.

'I'm fine,' Hermione said lazily. 'We're both fine, very relaxed and snug.'

'Good,' Ron said, caressing Hermione's tummy. 'It just feels a bit odd when it's your own kid in there.'

'It's a wonderful bonding moment, Ron, and there's nothing wrong with it. It was meant to be that way,' Hermione said, yawning. 'The whole miracle of pregnancy and birth is beautiful.'

Ron reached to press a kiss on her lips.

'Fine, we'll keep at it, but if the kid ever brings up sausages, you're on your own.'

Hermione grinned sleepily.

'I'll accept the challenge, Ronald Weasley.'


	9. Naughty Hermione

**Chapter 9: Naughty Hermione**

It was a warm summer's evening, and the jovial sun was drenching the Burrow in a mellow, orange light. The garden was packed with people and voices, and a long table was squeaking under the weight of plates and bowls of food. Hermione sat down in a shabby armchair under a tree and tucked heartily into her portion of apple pie and custard. Her eyes wandered over the chattering crowd. Molly and Arthur were playing with Teddy Lupin, whose hair kept changing from violently blue to purple and yellow, Fleur was braiding little Victoire's hair, and Harry, Ginny, Angelina, and Bill were playing a game of Quidditch.  
Hermione smiled as Bill scored and did a jubilant air-dance with Ginny, whose belly was hardly visible. Hermione sighed and stroked hers; it was at least twice as big as Ginny's. Then again, she was much rather very visibly pregnant than not; she couldn't help secretly thinking that a pregnancy without a real belly was not quite going by the book.  
Her eyes glided on, brushed over Percy and Audrey, and landed on Ron, who was talking to George by one of Molly's lush flowerbeds. He was wearing the dark green capris she had brought him from London when she had gone baby shopping with her Mum. They were quite tight around the bottom, and as she examined his form, a tickling warmth started to creep through her.

His _buttocks_. His juicy, perfectly round buttocks.

Her eyes slid along his body and surveyed the bare calves...the long back hidden under a blue T-shirt...the strong arms that were gesticulating as he spoke...the tousled mop of red hair...  
George snorted loudly, and Hermione startled so that a piece of pie flew away. Blushing heartily, she kicked it under a bush and returned her attention to Ron. He was still gesturing and talking animatedly, obviously about some new product for the WWW. George made a sweeping movement with his hand, and Ron stepped back to avoid collision.

His buttocks rippled in a way that made hot waves of blood storm through Hermione.

Not quite knowing what she was doing, she put away her plate and sauntered to Ron. He flashed a smile, but continued talking to George. His body was warm beside her, and he smelled faintly of aftershave.

'So, if you up the gunpowder a bit and make the cardstock thicker, I think the explosion will be more spectacular...'

'Mhm, but you have to remember that if you use too heavy cardstock, it might...'

As George spoke, Hermione slid her hand on Ron's right buttock and rubbed it. The feel of it made her quite dizzy, and she shamelessly ignored Ron's surprised look. She snuggled closer to him and reached to rub his left buttock. Holy cricket, it was delicious. Ron gave her another look, but her whole body was practically crackling, and there was only one thought on her mind. She slid her hand back on his right buttock and pinched it.

'Hermione!' Ron jumped. George looked at them both puzzledly, and Ron coughed, his ears crimson.

'She just stepped on my foot. You were saying?'

George went on, and Hermione placed her hand back on Ron's botty. She felt completely reckless, almost drunk, and she couldn't have cared less for anything except that one thing. Now she was looking hungrily at Ron's chest and his veined arms -his bare calves covered in fine hair almost made her moan.

'Let's go home,' she whispered.

'What?'

'Excuse us, George,' Hermione said with a smile and steered Ron around the corner. Before he could open his mouth, she pressed him against the wall and kissed him deeply.

'Let's go home,' she whispered. 'We can apparate there and back in no time.'

A smile broke out on Ron's face.

'Side-Along-Apparition?'

x--x--x

'Hermione, dear, are you all right?' Molly asked. 'You're all flushed.'

'I'm fine,' Hermione breathed and tucked a curl behind her ear. 'I was just feeling, er, weak, so Ron helped me a bit.'

Ron turned away and coughed into his hand. Luckily, Molly seemed completely oblivious and just guided Hermione towards the table.

'Have something to eat, you'll feel better. Or maybe a drink -it's terribly hot today. Oh Teddy, sweetie, don't wipe your hands in your trousers!'

'Yes, love, how about some lemonade?' Ron said innocently as Molly dashed away. He filled a glass with sparkly lemonade and gave it to Hermione, his eyes twinkling. He poured a glassful for himself as well and drank it with one swig.  
Hermione drew a shuddering breath.

His _lips_. His soft lips with the particularly full bottom one.

'Ron,' Hermione said huskily and touched his arm. The warmth of his skin made her close her eyes. 'Let's go home.'

'What? Is something wrong?'

'No.' Hermione opened her eyes. Her whole body quivered at the sight of Ron licking his lips after the drink. '_You know_.'

Ron's eyes rounded in bewilderment, but as Hermione continued to stare him, a knowing grin spread on his face.

'Oh right, Harry warned me that women tend to get a bit mushy at some point of pregnancy...'

He waved his hand at Harry and Ginny, who were walking towards them, and pulled Hermione away. Before they apparated, he leaned to press a soft kiss on her neck.

'You know Hermione -I'm really loving this pregnancy stuff.'

x--x--x

'Come on, score!' Harry punched the air vigorously, but Bill was too late. Ron blocked the Quaffle with a swing of his broomstick, and Harry groaned.

'That was an easy one, Bill!'

'Yep, easy to _block_,' Ron said with a grin, and Harry waved his fist at him.

Hermione smiled in the shadows. It was scorching hot, as it had been for weeks now, and the men were playing wearing only shorts. Ginny had suggested she could play in her bra, too, but Ron had protested.

'Ha!' Harry cried victoriously as the Quaffle swished past Ron. Ron hit the handle of his broomstick angrily, and Ginny dove behind a bush to get the ball. Ron hovered in midair for a while, running his fingers through his hair. His chest was glistening with sweat in the sun, and the muscles were nicely visible.

His _chest_. His buff, wide chest with the fine, red hair.

Hermione shuffled her feet and bit her lip. The Quaffle was back in the game, and Ron had accelerated his speed. He stretched out his hand to do something -what, Hermione had no idea because the action had exposed his armpit. That dark depth widening smoothly down to a toned side.

Hermione drew a deep breath and crossed her legs. She could not wait, not for a second.

'Ron,' she said with a little quiver in her voice. 'Would - would you come here, please?'

Everybody halted, and Ron zoomed towards her.

'What is it?'

'Well...' Hermione looked up to Ron's flushed face. His chest was so close she could have touched it with very little effort.

'You're not getting mushy again, are you?' Ron said in a low voice and glanced over his shoulder. Ginny was hovering slowly closer.

'Yes. Sorry.' Hermione grinned apologetically. 'It's just...see, I really -I mean, _really_- want to...' She stood up to whisper something in Ron's ear.

'Right! Sorry chaps, but we have to leave´,' Ron said immediately and hopped down. 'Hermione's a bit under the weather.'

'Oh, too bad,' Ginny said sympathetically. 'This pregnancy is really not kind to you, Hermione. You've been taken ill a lot lately. Doesn't your nurse have any spells for it?'

'I don't think spells can cure what's wrong with you, you little tramp,' Ron muttered so that only Hermione could hear him. 'Cheerio!'

He turned to Hermione and took her hand with a tremendously naughty smile.

'And now -I'm all yours.'

x--x--x

'Ron, wait! I'll come with you and Harry!'

Hermione grabbed her bag and ran out of the living room. A couple of papers were about to slip away, but she cast a silent Freezing Charm on them.  
Ron was standing by the door, his hand on the handle. His red hair formed a striking contrast to his dark blue Auror uniform, and Hermione halted by the hall mirror.

His _neck_. His lovely, strong, manly neck. Thoughts that made Hermione blush rushed through her mind, and the familiar tickling was again overtaking her.

Ron shook his head very, very slowly.

'Hermione...'

'Just a quick one, Ron!'

'Hermione, I'm already knackered from last night. And the night before that. And the night before that. I haven't slept properly in a week!'

'I know,' Hermione said desperately. 'It's just...I can't help it. But _An Enjoyable Pregnancy_ says it's normal for women to blossom and feel quite, you know, _desirous_ at this point. Oh, come on! When the baby arrives, things are bound to get the exact opposite. We'll be constantly tired and covered in nappies and puke.'

'We'll be late from work...'

'So what?' Hermione chucked her bag in a chair and opened the top button of Ron's jacket. 'A pregnant woman can always be late, and for you being late is nothing unusual.'

Ron had no chance to reply with anything else than a moan, as Hermione was already attacking his neck.

x--x--x

An hour later Hermione was sitting at her desk and shuffling papers with an occasional ravenous glance at Ron's waving picture. There was a knock on the door, and Juliana came in with a steaming mug and a sandwich.

'Here's a bit of breakfast,' she said. 'And don't worry about being late. You have so many hours overtime that you could well take a week off.'

Hermione smiled and straightened a pile of papers against the desk with a tap.

'You know, I think that is an _excellent_ suggestion!'


	10. Skeeter's Story

**Chapter 10: Skeeter's Story**

'And if you look at the number of house-elf related accidents in this chart, you can see that it's almost twice as high...'

Hermione moved a bit in her chair, trying to get a paper from under her binder. Her belly was so huge now that she had to pull herself higher with both hands, which caused her quill to fall noisily on the floor.

'I'll get it,' Juliana whispered when the man from the Irish Ministry of Magic looked at Hermione with a furrowed brow.

'Sorry!' Hermione smiled and brushed her burning cheeks. She really had to pee again, but she had already excused herself twice in an hour, and the lecturer didn't seem to be of the mellow type.

'Two more weeks till your maternity leave,' Juliana said quietly and placed the quill back on the table. 'You must be terribly uncomfortable with such a massive belly.'

'Thanks,' Hermione said, not sure if she should be pleased or annoyed.

The Irish Ministry worker went on for another painful twenty minutes, after which Hermione's bladder was about to burst, and she had to run to the loo. She slammed the cubicle door shut and sat heavily down, sighing desolately. Two months till due date. Two more months of lugging the ever-growing belly around and peeing every ten minutes.

'You must be as big as your Dad,' she whispered and stroked her belly as she tried to drag herself up. The baby kicked forcefully, and Hermione sank back down, tears welling in her eyes.

Well, this was stupid. She was _not_ going to get soppy just because the baby kicked. She already got ridiculously teary at least ten times a day, even about such a trivial thing as spilling coffee.

She wiped her tears resolutely away and waddled back to the corridor. She was about to turn back to the conference room to get her stuff when Juliana peeked from her office, waving the _Daily Prophet_.

'Hermione? Would you come here for a moment?'

'What is it?' Hermione followed Juliana and sat in the offered chair.

'Have you read the paper?' Juliana asked, crossing her hands on the table.

Hermione shook her head.

'No, it hadn't come yet when we left for work.'

'I thought so, they've apparently had some trouble with the owls this morning. Cesar just brought this in, and I think you should see it. You might find it...interesting.' Juliana gave Hermione the paper that had been opened at the centre spread. 'Remember, you know Skeeter. Nobody's going to believe it.'

A sudden cold shiver ran down Hermione's back, and she flapped the paper wide open. There, straight in the middle was a super-sized picture of her walking -or rather, wobbling- along Diagon Alley with a cup of coffee in her hand and a lone tear streaming down her cheek.

_**Heroine's Secret Heartache - The Deception of Hermione Weasley**_

War hero, Harry Potter's best friend, and straight O student - everybody knows and reveres Hermione Weasley, née Granger, member of Harry Potter's tight inner circle and his partner in destroying Voldemort. A woman who graduated from Hogwarts with the highest grades in years, rose fast on the career ladder in the Ministry, married Harry Potter's other friend Randall Weasley, and earlier this year announced that she is expecting her first child. Things should look rosy for this successful Muggle-born Mum-to-be, and indeed, comments from friends and family members are warm and glowing.

"She's really excited about becoming a Mum," says Ginny Potter, née Weasley, wife of Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter.  
"She and Ryan have cupboards full of baby clothes and toys. This baby will no doubt be doted upon, and they will be great parents," comments Neville Longbottom, professor of Herbology at Hogwarts and long-time friend of Mrs Weasley.  
"We can't wait to meet our newest grandchild," says proud grandparent-to-be Arthur Weasley, father-in-law of Mrs Weasley and head of the ever-growing Weasley clan.

But is everything as rosy as it seems on the surface? Last week, a teary Mrs Weasley was spotted in Diagon Alley, wandering around with a deeply troubled look. A colleague says Mrs Weasley has acted strangely for quite a while now.  
"She even took a week off from work some time ago. Anyone who knows her knows she'd never do that if it wasn't something serious. She's a workaholic."  
Further suspicions arose when the Prophet received an anonymous tip not many days ago of Mrs Weasley's secret rendezvous with a certain black-haired man. A man, who, rumour says, broke her heart years ago and left her to pick up the pieces.  
"She never got over him," says one of Mrs Weasley's old school fellows. "She married Weasley to escape the pain."  
Indeed, it seems that Mrs Weasley's old flame Viktor Krum is back in the picture. Mrs Weasley was seen talking excitedly to him outside Quality Quidditch Supplies last Thursday, and the couple exchanged a warm hug afterwards. Another sighting of the pair took place in an alley behind Gringotts a few days later. Eyewitnesses say many smiles were exchanged, along with another warm hug. The question arises as to why Mrs Weasley is now wandering in the streets confused and crying.  
"I think he wants her back," says the former school fellow. "And I bet she's realised now what a baboon she married. She wants out, but she's scared of what a divorce will do to her career. She's always been obsessive about popularity, which is why she hung out with Potter in the first place."

Indeed, the Prophet raised the issue of Mrs Weasley's choice already back when she married the red-haired member of the Weasley clan. While many congratulated the pair, who bravely put on a happy face, several concerned comments surfaced about how Miss Granger was about to enter a highly unwise and unequal alliance.  
"She should have married Harry Potter," wrote Mrs Glaston of Orangetown. "He was worthy of her. This Randy Weasley is a lazy nobody. She's wasting herself on a slob who's on the mental level of a five-year-old. I thought she had more sense, and I'm no longer a fan of hers."  
Many similar comments arrived, along with those calling for Miss Granger's alliance with Mr Krum, who enjoys a large fan base and has remained single.  
"Miss Granger should have married Viktor Krum," wrote Mr Swat of Frogpitch. 'He's a star, and she's a star. Stars should be together."  
Mrs Weasley has always been highly defensive about her questionable choices. The writer vividly recalls an incident shortly after Mrs Weasley's wedding when she stormed the newsroom and poured Ever-Staining Ink all over the editor's table. Yet the happy façade is clearly cracking now, and the burning question is whether the old lovers have finally woken to realise what they have lost.

_**Participate in the Prophet Poll!**__  
Today's question: "Should modern witches stay in unhappy marriages, or brave the society's disapproval and boldly seek their true love?__"  
Send in your owl, and you could be one of the three lucky readers to win a copy of Viktor Krum's unofficial biography, "Surly and Sexy - The Unbelievable True Story of The Boy Who Could Fly", by Rita Skeeter!_

Hermione let the paper fall on the floor. He hands were shaking so hard that she had to grasp the arms of the chair with her knuckles white.

'We all know what Skeeter's made of,' Juliana said and came over with a glass of water. 'Oh Hermione, don't cry!'

'That evil, nasty, _mean_ -,' Hermione said breathily, but she was interrupted as the door flew open.

A very pale Ron was standing on the doorstep, holding the paper.


	11. Luvyoutoo

**Chapter 11: Luvyoutoo**

'Oh Ron!' Hermione rushed to the door and took Ron's hand. 'I'm going to get that horrible woman, I swear!'

'So, it's not true, then?' Ron said in an odd voice. 'You didn't meet Viktor Krum?'

Hermione halted.

'Well, actually, I _did_ meet him, but -'

'And when did you plan to tell me?'

'I _was_ planning to tell you, but -'

'But you just hadn't got around to it yet?'

'Ron, listen to me! There's a perfectly -'

'You know what?' Ron whisked the paper to the floor. 'I've taken enough crap from Skeeter ever since she found out we're together. I can't believe you didn't know better than to chummy up to Vicky in the middle of Diagon Alley in broad daylight!'

He whirled around and banged the door on Hermione's face. Hermione turned to Juliana, who was perusing papers with a delicate yet aware expression. When Hermione stayed silent, she raised her eyes.

'I'd be mad, too,' she said calmly. 'Skeeter didn't get the posh celebrity pair she was hoping of you, so she has attacked Ron over and over again, no doubt out of pure spite. Did you notice how cleverly she did it in that article? _She_ never called him names, but instead included plenty of vicious comments from readers and interviewees. If you ask me, a man who'd take that time after time without getting upset would be nothing short of a saint.'

'But he should trust me by now!' Hermione said exasperatedly. 'He should know that I'd never cheat on him.'

'I don't think he seriously thinks you'd do that. I think it's more of a self-esteem issue. Hermione, darling, let me tell you something as an older and more experienced woman...' Juliana came over and put her hand around Hermione's shoulders. 'Insecurity and a feeling of inferiority stemming all the way from childhood won't be brushed away with a couple of years of romantic bliss. No matter how wonderful those years have been.'

'I suppose not,' Hermione said uncertainly. The paper lay open at her feet, and she could see her own forlorn self waddling along the street, sipping coffee from a crimson paper cup. 'Do you know why I was crying there? The cup had a tear, and some of the coffee spilled on my hand. It's ridiculous, but all the pregnancy books say it's quite normal.'

Juliana smiled and stroked Hermione's arm.

'Go. You and hubby need a heart-to-heart.'

Hermione apparated right outside the building, staggering a bit as she landed on the porch of their house. Ron was not in any of the rooms, but the cloak of his Auror uniform lay wrinkled in an armchair, which meant he had been there. Hermione folded the cloak neatly and tapped one of the buttons lightly with her wand. A faint red line started squirming towards the back door like a snake, and Hermione followed it. It pierced the back door and led to the shadowy back garden, across a bridge spanning over a bubbling brook, and to a meadow warmed by the late summer sun.

Ron was lying half-buried in the grass with his hands underneath his head and a flower in his mouth. He squinted as Hermione sat down beside him.

'Ron.' Hermione touched his elbow. He didn't look angry any more, and his blue eyes were very bright. 'The first time I ran into Viktor was by accident. He's here in business, meeting various Quidditch people and whatnot. The second time was to talk about getting VIP tickets to next year's Quidditch World Cup. I thought we could go as a family.'

Ron raised his head, and the flower fell on the ground.

'I intended to tell you about it when the baby is born. You've been so supportive and great with my moods and everything that I wanted to surprise you,' Hermione said, fighting a laughable amount of melodramatic tears. 'That's all. Viktor congratulated us about the baby, and he even asked me if I knew any nice single witches I could introduce to him.'

'You wanted to get us tickets to the Quidditch World Cup?'

'Yes. Viktor has lots of contacts, and he said he can get VIP tickets pretty easily.'

Ron watched Hermione for a moment. Then he sat up and pulled her close.

'I'm sorry, I'm such a dunderhead. I wasn't really doubting you, though, I just lost my temper. Are you all right?'

'I'm fine.' Hermione grasped Ron like a lonely log drifting on a vast sea. He was warm and smelled of butter rolls, aftershave, and just Ron. She couldn't hold back the tears, and they sat in the grass for a while, listening to the gentle hum of the wind and the chirping of the birds.

'Hermione...' Ron lifted Hermione's chin gently and looked into her eyes. His voice was strained, achy. 'Why _are_ you with me? Why aren't you with Harry? Or Viktor? Or some other fancy bloke?'

'Ron...'

'Because it would make sense, wouldn't it? It was true what that comment said: you've always been a star. But me - I'm just that regular red-haired bloke from the big and broke family. Sometimes I have these doubts why you'd be with someone like me, and then Skeeter confirms everything I've been thinking.'

'I'm with you because I love you, you silly man.' Hermione pressed a tear-stained kiss on Ron's lips and brushed her nose against his. 'It's always been you, ever since that spot of dirt on your nose in the Hogwarts Express.'

Ron closed his eyes, and Hermione waited patiently. This was never easy for Ron. Her patience was rewarded after a few minutes when Ron buried his face in her hair.

'Luvyoutoo.'

Hermione half-chuckled and half-hiccoughed. She dug out a hanky and blew her nose noisily, willing herself to say it. It was now or never.

'Ron, haven't you ever wondered why I don't have any Muggle friends?'

'Not really. You went to school at Hogwarts, so I supposed we were your friends.'

'Yes, but I lived in the Muggle world for the first eleven or so years of my life, and I spent some holidays there during my Hogwarts years. You'd think I'd have at least some friends there, wouldn't you?'

'Maybe it's because you were such an insufferable know-it-all,' Ron said with a grin.

'Yes.'

Ron furrowed his brow and opened his mouth, but Hermione pressed her finger on his lips. She spoke very fast, determined to get it all out at once.

'Before I came to Hogwarts, I had no friends. I knew all the school books by heart and got near perfect grades at school, but I didn't know how to deal with people. I had no clue how to play with the other kids because I was so concentrated on books and school. I thought that getting good grades and being a good student would make them like me, but it didn't. They hated me. They called me names -'

'What names? Who did it?' Ron perked up.

'Listen! My point is that I was never a star - I was the lonely geek that nobody wanted to be with. Nobody but the teachers applauded my efforts and results, and even my parents were anxious for me to find some friends and relax a bit.'

Ron brushed away a frizz of hair from Hermione's wet cheek and tightened his hold of her.

'Gits! Just give me the names, and I'll go and hex them. I'll be damned if anybody else calls you a know-it-all.'

'It's fine now,' Hermione said and wiped her nose again. 'But Ron, can't you see what it means? It means that I can understand how _you_ feel! You just have to talk to me. Because all this star nonsense and who's worthy of who was never reality; it was invented by the media for their own purposes. Rita built me up as some kind of brainy Barbie doll with an exciting Muggle background. Of course people took an interest and wanted to see me with another shiny celebrity! It's a phenomenon of our times, and it happens even more in the Muggle world.'

'I know, I know,' Ron said weakly. 'It's just hard not to care.'

'It'll be easier from now on,' Hermione said firmly. 'I'm cancelling our subscription of the _Prophet_. It's time we showed some support for _The Quibbler_ anyway.'

Ron chortled. He laid Hermione carefully on the ground and picked a dainty pink flower. He slid it behind her ear and kissed her belly.

'I don't care what the Muggles say. You're my insufferable know-it-all, and I wouldn't exchange you for the world.'

--X--X--

'Madam, you can't go in there!' The secretary shot up from behind her desk as Hermione reached for the door handle.

'Oh, I think I can,' Hermione said icily and pushed the door open.

Rita Skeeter's office was cluttered with tables and shelves packed with coffee cups, paper piles, sweets wrappers, chocolate bars, wine bottles, and jars of Quick-Quotes Quills. The walls were hardly visible behind posters of muscular wizards in tights posing on broom sticks.

'Mrs Weasley, what a happy surprise!' Rita rose from her chair and summoned a fresh Quick-Quotes Quill as fast as a bat of an eyelid. 'How are you? About to pop, I see. How's the baby? No complications or anything?'

'Nothing to concern you.' Hermione pointed her wand at the quill. '_Confringo!_'

The quill exploded in Rita's hand. For a second, she looked dumbstruck, but soon a dazzling smile lit up her powdered face.

'Ah, a heavy dose of pregnancy hormones. Have you seen a specialist? Perhaps this is the cause for the recent rumoured rift between you and your lovely husband. Robert, isn't it?'

'Ronald.' Hermione raised her wand and pushed it on Rita's throat. 'And there is no rift as you very well know. Will you listen voluntarily, or do I tie you first?'

Rita's cheek twitched and she backed off to her chair with a fake smile.

'I'm always ready to listen to one of our most acclaimed war heroes.'

'Good.' Hermione pulled off her wand and sat in a chair facing Rita. 'I have a deal for you. A non-negotiable deal, mind you. You write a correction, in which you admit that you were completely wrong about Viktor Krum and me. Then you include my husband in your Wizard of the Month series and write a highly praising article about him. Before the article goes to print, you will send it to me, so that I can make sure you haven't sneaked in one of your hidden attacks.'

Rita watched Hermione intently over her jeweled spectacles, her long fingers caressing the rim of a wine glass.

'Quite formidable demands. Why would I comply? As I told you when you stormed my office after that article about your wedding, I'm now a registered Animagus. You have nothing on me any more.'

'Oh, but I do. If you don't comply, Viktor Krum will sue you for publishing an unsolicited biography of him and selling said book without him getting a sickle. He was quite livid about it, but I think I might _just_ be able to persuade him not to sue you out of home and office.'

Rita's expression changed, and she pushed the wine glass angrily away.

'You're putting me out of work!'

'I'm doing nothing of the sort. I will send you detailed instructions of the correction and the Wizard of the Month article later today.'

Rita made no reply, just stared resolutely out of the window and tapped her blood-red fingernails against the table.

At the door, Hermione turned around and tucked her wand into one of the huge pockets in her maternity dress.

'Keep this in mind. Nobody messes with my man and gets away with it.'


	12. Wizard of the Month

_**Author's note:**__ We will return to pregnancy stuff in the next chapter -I just love writing Rita so much that I had to do this chapter! :-) Thank you all for the lovely comments and feedback, you're the best!)_

**Chapter 12: Wizard of the Month**

_"Dear Hermione,  
here is the WoTM article of your darling husband, Reynard. As you can see, I've really pressed the point and created a fabulous, deep character portrait, which hopefully will satisfy even your dignified taste.  
Kindly,  
Rita Skeeter"_

**WIZARD OF THE MONTH: Ron Weasley**  
_by Rita Skeeter_

We all know the Weasleys. Red-haired, loud, and plenty to be had of them. But in the recent decades, one has risen to fame quite unlike the others.  
Sidekick of the famous pair Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley tagged our brave Boy-Who-Lived on almost all of his adventures. Noted for his brazen jokes and great appetite for food, he is a man who has always wanted more. His only major skill being chess has no doubt left him in the shadow of more competent wizards and witches, but still, he has his friends and admirers.

Ronald Bilius Weasley was born on March 1st, 1980 to the already numerous family of Molly and Arthur Weasley, members of the original Order of the Phoenix. Founded by the late Albus Dumbledore, the group fought Voldemort vigorously, if somewhat unsuccessfully, in their time. Harry Potter's parents, Lily and James Potter, were also part of the group, but there are no reports of friendship between the two couples. This, however, is understandable, as the Potters were well off, and it was no doubt hard for the poor parents of little Ronald to get chummy with the glam couple. Ronald's family was always short of money, and little "Ronniekins" grew up wearing hand-me-downs from his countless older siblings, which no doubt planted in him the hunger for contacts and success that has largely marked his life.

Be that as it may, a miracle took place when young Ronald spied the famous Harry Potter in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express on that fateful day of September 1st, 1991. No doubt eager to share in some of Harry's glory, Ronald quickly set to become friends with the Boy-Who-Lived. Indeed, he guarded his friendship with Harry Potter so jealously that other children bowed out of his way (including such notable names as Draco Malfoy), no doubt recognising that this carrot-top was truly determined to hop upwards on the social ladder. After Ronald had secured Harry Potter's friendship, the clever Hermione Granger was accepted into the boys' company. What some call the Golden Trio was thus born. Armed with Harry's bravery, Hermione's intelligence, and Ronald's jokes, the children faced danger after another.

Time passed on, and Ronald faced what every child inevitably must: the passage from childhood to adulthood, although for him it took slightly longer than normally. His teenage years were tumultuous and contained many tussles with his friends, but time after time, he charmed them to forgive him. Keen to find some fame, Ronald also tried his hands at Quidditch, but his road was bumpy, and his friends had to come to his rescue more than once. Outside the unlucky Quidditch pitch, school was never Ronald's strong point, but he managed to scrape seven OWLs, the same amount as his famous friend Harry Potter. No doubt delighted by this uncommon stroke of luck, he continued on at Hogwarts, following Harry and Hermione in their plight and trying to keep up with the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Year 1997 saw the dreadful return of Voldemort to power, and again Ronald fought his way to the centre of things. Together with Harry and Hermione, he set out to a dangerous camping trip across England, although eventually growing weary and abandoning his friends, who continued undaunted in their joint vision of bringing Voldemort down. However, after a comfortable rest, Ronald was ready to find his friends again and continue on the path to glory. Details are unknown, but it is believed that he destroyed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes (heavily aided by Harry Potter). He also followed his friends to the Battle of Hogwarts, but no noteworthy successes have been recorded for him there.

After Voldemort's downfall, Ronald joined the Auror department under the supervision of Harry Potter, and later on became co-owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, a joke shop of his twin brothers, one of who died in the Battle of Hogwarts. Many believed this to be his most natural profession, taking into account his aptitude to comic remarks, yet he still continued as an Auror as well. Some years later, he married Harry Potter's best friend Hermione Granger in a secretive winter wedding, and the couple is expecting their first child this autumn.

While far from the popularity and cleverness of his wife and Harry Potter, the Ronald Weasley of today is essentially still the same gauche red-haired boy with plenty of jokes to share and a hunger for better prospects in life. 

--x--x--

_"Dear Rita,  
here is the WoTM article with my corrections. Kindly do not make any changes to it; simply print it as-is.  
Regards,  
Hermione Weasley  
PS. Viktor Krum is dining with us tonight. He is looking forward to reading the article."_

**WIZARD OF THE MONTH: Ron Weasley**  
_by Rita Skeeter_

We all know the Weasleys. Red-haired, warm, and loving, this large family encompasses several generations. But in the recent decades, one has risen to fame quite unlike the others.  
Best friend of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley followed our brave Boy-Who-Lived on all of his adventures. Noted for his bravery and loyalty, he is a man who has always been there for his friends, whether it was standing up for them in front of a murderer or facing his worst fears to save them. A genius in chess, he is known to have beaten even the best of players, including the famous Viktor Krum. No wonder he has plenty of friends and admirers.

Ronald Bilius Weasley was born on March 1st, 1980 to the already numerous family of Molly and Arthur Weasley, members of the original Order of the Phoenix. Founded by the late Albus Dumbledore, the group fought Voldemort vigorously in their time, many sacrificing their lives for the cause. Harry Potter's parents, Lily and James Potter, were also part of the group, and the couples no doubt hoped that one day their children would be friends, too. Ron's parents worked hard for the well-being of their family, Arthur in the Ministry of Magic and Molly as a homemaker, and even today, their home is always open to the numerous children, spouses, and friends of their children.

On September 1st, 1991, Ron boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time and met a black-haired boy with a scar like a bolt of lightning. Harry Potter and Ron quickly became best friends, and the boys have been inseparable ever since. After they courageously saved one of their fellow students from a troll, they befriended said student, Hermione Granger, who bought a fresh breeze of discipline to the boys' sometimes wild ways. Harry, who was being eagerly courted as a friend by many children due to his fame, always stayed true to his friends and never cared about their family status or wealth. Armed with Harry's determination and courage, Ron's loyalty and bravery, and Hermione's intelligence and common sense, the children faced danger after another.

Time passed on, and teenage brought storms into the lives of Ron and his friends. Yet they stuck together through thick and thin, including first crushes, first break-ups, and first kisses, and consequently grew even closer to one another. A lifelong Quidditch fan, Ron joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his fifth year, and after a bumpy start, he ended up seeing great victories for his team. Outside the Quidditch pitch, Ron got seven OWLs, the same amount as Harry, and the boys even chose the same subjects for their sixth year at Hogwarts. Yet life was not only Quidditch and school for Ron: being the best friend of Harry Potter had the unfortunate effect of also being in close proximity of Voldemort, who was set on killing Harry.

Year 1997 saw the dreadful return of Voldemort to power, and determined to stay with Harry, Ron sacrificed his last school year to accompany Harry on his quest to destroy Voldemort. Harry, Ron, and Hermione thus set out to a dangerous camping trip across England to find Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes. The task was daunting and tried everybody's nerves, resulting in tension and even a short rift between the friends, yet victory shone in the end. On a cold, dark night, Ron triumphantly destroyed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He also followed his friends to the Battle of Hogwarts, where he was instrumental in the destruction of another Horcrux, but also had to witness the horrifying death of one of his brothers. With incredible strength of mind, he kept going and finally saw Harry Potter conquer the Darkest Wizard of all time.

After Voldemort's downfall, Ron joined the Auror department with Harry, and later on became co-owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, a joke shop of his twin brothers, one of who sadly died in the Battle of Hogwarts. A naturally witty and funny man, he has helped bring WWW new levels of success, and the shop has indeed remained highly popular. Some years later, he married his other best friend Hermione Granger in a beautiful winter wedding, and the couple is happily expecting their first child this autumn.

Ron Weasley today is the perfect example of that you don't have to be born into wealth, success, or fame to end up a success. It is our choices who determine who we are. 


	13. Be the Womb!

_Author's note: Professor Trelawney's first name is spelled "Sibyll" in the US editions of the books, but "Sybill" in the UK editions, which are the editions I have._

**Chapter 13: Be the Womb!**

'Come on, Ron!' Hermione was standing at the door and tapping her foot imperiously against the floor. 'We mustn't be late!'

Ron emerged from the living room, pulling his jacket on with a sour look.

'I'm telling you, this is a scam. It's what you get when you answer an ad in _The Quibbler_. We'll probably be surrounded by naked people chanting about the deep, hidden might of the womb.'

Hermione snickered. 'Fiddlesticks! Childbirth classes have been around in the Muggle world for decades, and they're very popular. There's even this technique called Lamaze, and -'

'Please, no French mazes,' Ron said with a long-suffering look and locked the door. 'And I'm _not_ doing any kinky stuff in public.'

Hermione smiled and stroked Ron's hand.

'I solemnly promise we'll leave the kinky stuff for private moments. This class is all about learning how to give birth and have an amazing experience. You ready?'

She spun on the spot, vaguely aware of Ron's muttering.

'...I wouldn't exactly call squeezing a small potato sack out of there an amazing experience, let alone having to witness it...'

They apparated at the end of Partridge Road. It was a narrow, winding path running into a grid of small houses very close to Knockturn Alley. There were dinky shops on both sides, and Hermione could hear Ron sniffing as they read the signs. "Oozing Eggs"..."Charms To Go"..."Frogs R Us"...

'Bet Neville'd like that one.' Ron turned his head as they passed a window with a pond where several slimy toads sat watching them.

'Here it is.' Hermione consulted the ad she had clipped from the paper. 'Come on, it starts in five minutes, and I'd like to have a chat with the instructor first!'

They opened a rusty door next to the frog shop and climbed squeaky stairs to the second floor. A door was ajar at the end of the corridor, and lively chatter sounded from the flat.

'Wait a minute!' Ron seized Hermione's sleeve as they passed the open door. 'Look at that sign!'

**Gwendolyn Trelawney**  
_Wizarding Birth Consultant. Natural Birth Expert. Lover of Babies. Single and Available._

'Trelawney! She must be related to the old bat. See?' Ron looked victoriously at Hermione, who felt her cheeks flush. There hadn't been a name in the ad, just the description, time, and address.

'It's probably a distant relative,' she said and continued to the flat. 'The ad said she's been keeping these classes for five years now. She can't possibly be a fraud!'

'Did you _read_ the sign?' Ron hissed as they hung their coats on a dilapidated rack in a crammed entrance hall. '"Single and available?" That woman can't be anything else than barking.'

'Pfth!' Hermione said and turned to another doorway that led to a large, round room. There were pregnant women everywhere, sitting on the floor and talking in groups by the walls.

'Ladies, gentlemen, time to begin!' a soft voice said, and a spindly woman emerged from a lopsided door at the back of the room. Her hair was striped with the colours of the rainbow, and she was wearing a black velvet dress that had babies embroidered in it with multi-coloured crystals.

'Mad, I'm telling you. Mad!' Ron whispered as they sat down near the door.

'Welcome, my dear wombettes, welcome! Gather round and please sit down. Our wombettes must be as close to the earth's vibrating core as possible.'

Ron turned to Hermione, but he didn't look irritated any more; he was grinning in an annoying "told-you-so" manner.

Hermione bit her lip and refused to look at Ron. So maybe Gwendolyn Trelawney was slightly peculiar, but she _had_ to be an expert. Determinedly, Hermione put her hand in the air.

'Yes, dear.' Gwendolyn Trelawney pointed at Hermione with a thin finger shining with purple nail polish. She had no spectacles, but the resemblance to Sybill Trelawney was quite clear.

'I was just wondering if it's too late for us to join you? I'm thirty-three weeks pregnant now, and I would definitely have come earlier, but I didn't know about your class -'

'That's fine, dear,' Gwendolyn said. 'You have approximately seven weeks to go, and that's plenty of time to find your inner womb and eventually deliver amidst cries of joy for the expanding universe.'

'Can't wait to hear your cries of joy in the delivery room, my dear wombette,' Ron whispered and folded his hands on his chest. He looked like he was enjoying himself immensely.

'Now, we will continue our lesson from last time,' Gwendolyn said and stepped over a man sitting next to a woman with a crown of flowers on her head. 'Wombettes, lie down on the floor. Fathers, position yourselves on the side -'

'Excuse me,' Ron said loudly. 'But can I ask you why you call the women wombettes?' His voice quivered slightly with amusement, and Hermione narrowed her eyes. Everybody else was smiling hazily, so she didn't dare grimace at him.

'My dear father-to-be, have you not read my book, _Be the Womb_?' Gwendolyn cocked her head and tucked a green curl behind her ear.

Ron cocked his head, too, with a deeply pondering expression.

'I'm not sure. My dear wombette has brought home so many pregnancy books. Would you mind running it by me quickly?'

'Young man, pregnancy is a natural part of the universe. The universe is a pulsating, expanding orb of togetherness, ever seeking to burst out from its seams and join the celestial forces of love.' Gwendolyn closed her eyes and raised her hands to the ceiling. 'Each pregnant woman is the universe in miniature, a clenching womb yearning to expel the new creation growing within her. Once the woman understands this, she can distinguish herself as a throbbing womb, a unit where the love of the universe has condensed into one small fetus. Thus..._wombette_!' Gwendolyn weaved her body around with an entranced smile on her lips.

Hermione stared at Gwendolyn's jig with her mouth open. Ron was coughing violently into his hands, but nobody else seemed to have found the speech strange; many people were smiling and nodding.

'Now,' Gwendolyn said breathily. 'Settle down on the floor, wombettes. Fathers, place one hand behind the wombette's neck, the other one on the wombette's belly, and start singing.'

'Start _what_?' Ron jumped.

'Singing, my boy, singing! Chant the song of the universe in your wombette's ear, learn to make her forget the pain and find the joy in seeing her child join the universe's web of love. Remember to massage your wombette's belly with your other hand -call the child forward, further its passage from the dark depths!'

Hermione pursed her lips, desperately trying not to laugh, and lay down on the floor. Ron stared at Gwendolyn with a truly appalled expression, but Gwendolyn had already rushed to a couple on the side.

'Go ahead, then, sing,' Hermione said teasingly and pulled a strand of hair from her eyes. 'You do want baby Rommy to join the universe of love, don't you?'

'I want to get baby Rommy as far away from these twits as possible,' Ron said, but put his hands behind Hermione's neck and on her tummy as instructed. 'Come on, you can't believe in this nonsense.'

'Fine, I don't, but we can't just leave, it'd be rude. Pretend you're singing and give me a nice tummy massage instead.'

Ron started moving his hand slowly along Hermione's tummy, his eyes following Gwendolyn, who was walking among the chanting couples. A man wearing red spectacles burst suddenly into a resounding yodel.

'Oh George!' his wife screamed, massaging her tummy. 'I can feel the baby moving, it's restless, the universe is calling, a light coming closer, closer...!'

The man continued singing in an operatic voice while making elaborate swirls above the woman's belly with his free hand.

'I can feel the baby's spirit, it's a child of love...come, child, see the stars, expel yourself from the darkness!'

'Sing, sing!' Gwendolyn circled the couple, following the movements of the man's hand with her glittering wand. 'This child is ready, and this woman has entered the state of superior wombness! Her child will be born to great joy, from a body in balance with the universe!'

'Er, Ron,' Hermione said. 'Maybe we could say I'm feeling nauseous...'

Too late.

'And you!' Gwendolyn spun around and rushed to Hermione. 'Your body is still clogged; I can feel the hardness of your womb! Your child can't feel the love nor join the universe unless you release the hold of your mind over your body. Sing, ginger, sing! Release your wombette to be the womb she can be!' She pointed at Ron with her trembling wand.

'I, er...um...'

'Mary Had a Little Lamb,' Hermione whispered. She had been singing it to the baby lately, and Ron had picked it up easily.

'Mary had a little womb -I mean _lamb_!' Ron said hastily, massaging Hermione's leg frantically. 'Its fleece was, um, as white as snow...'

'My boy, lambs or Mary won't help your baby to reach the light.' Gwendolyn poked at Ron with her sparkling wand. 'You have to chant the birth canal open, stretch the womb with your words, push your wombette deeper into a union with the cosmos of love!'

Ron kept massaging Hermione's leg so hard that Hermione was sure she'd get a cramp in it. His eyes were big and wild, and he was obviously struggling to find a way to escape another song.

'So Gwen,' he said genially. 'You're single, then? Must be a hard job, seeing all the expecting couples.'

'My dear.' Gwendolyn pushed her face so close to Ron's that he jerked his head sharply backwards. 'Joining the universe of love is difficult. Like so many of my esteemed family members, I, too, possess the Inner Eye. I see many couples destined to fail, many men desperate for a gentle, loving soul instead of the grating nag at home. And when the need arises...I'll be there.' She made a sweeping gesture towards the window.

Hermione rose on her elbows and guided Ron's hand onto her belly. He was nodding slowly, his eyes fixed on Gwendolyn's earring, a small cupid winking vigorously at him.

'I'm sorry, Miss Trelawney,' Hermione said and pressed Ron's hand. She didn't like the way the cupid was throwing pink hearts at her husband. 'I'm feeling slightly unwell. Perhaps we should go home and return later.'

Gwendolyn nodded gravely.

'Ah, constipation. I knew something was blocking the canals, both of the flesh and of the spirit. Keep working on your inner womb, dear. Be the womb!'

'I most certainly will,' Hermione said, forcing out a smile as Ron helped her up. 'Thanks, and um, good luck!' She waved quickly and pulled Ron out of the room. They put their coats on in silence and descended the stairs without a word. When they reached the street, Ron leaned against the jagged wall of the building and exhaled deeply. They looked at each other, their lips trembling. Then they burst into fits of laughter that didn't cease even when an elderly man passed them and hastened away, looking nervously over his shoulder.

'You know you have a new nickname, don't you?' Ron said and wiped his eyes. 'And no force in the universe can prevent me from calling you my little wombette as long as you're pregnant.'

Hermione straightened herself, supporting her back with her hands, and swallowed a hiccough.

'I suppose I deserve it. I can't believe I responded to an ad in _The Quibbler_!'

'My dear wombette, you can make up your blunder tonight by introducing the kinky stuff. I was _so_ looking forward to it.'

'Liar,' Hermione whispered. 'But first, I think we both deserve a good, long visit to Sprinkle's Ice Cream Parlour!' 


	14. Poor Baby!

****

Chapter 14: Poor Baby!

Something was poking her on the back. Once, twice, three times.

_'Hermione?'_

Hermione brushed her eyes and turned her head. Ron's chin was resting on his shoulder, tickling her skin.

'What?' she said, trying not to sound too groggy. 'Ron, I only just fell asleep. Do you know how difficult it is with a belly the size of a mountain?'

'I know, I'm sorry,' Ron whispered. 'I have to tell you something.'

'What?' Hermione said with a yawn and repositioned her pillow.

'Just wanted to let you know that I'm going to suck as a father.'

Hermione smiled to herself and reached back to pat Ron's cheek.

'Nonsense. You'll be a wonderful father. Wildly overprotective and much too soft, of course, but that's about it. Now, go back to sleep.'

--x--x--

Hermione leaned back with a content sigh as the brush worked on her hair. It slid through her frizzes like a hot knife through butter, and not a single tangle stung on her scalp. The only negative thing was that her hair had grown so thick that she couldn't really keep it loose anymore.

'I wish I could have pregnancy hair every day,' she sighed and guided the brush back on the shelf.

'Great. Maybe that'll be a consolation when I've messed up our kid,' Ron muttered and buttoned his trousers. 'You ready?'

'Didn't you read that book I gave you?' Hermione asked and heaved herself up with a spell from her _Pregnancy Spells Handbook_.

'_Charm Your Way into Fatherhood?_ Oh yeah, I read it till I was ready to puke at those fake pictures. Smiling fathers running in a meadow with their laughing kids. Hello? It won't be like that! I'm much more likely to drop the tot on its head, or sit on it, or scar it mentally before it even goes to school.'

'Why are you suddenly so concerned about your parenting abilities?' Hermione asked absent-mindedly and wiped a toothpaste stain from the sink.

'Your due date is in a week, which means I'm going to be a father in a week! An innocent soul is going to be trusted into my clumsy hands. A child full of questions like, "Dad, why are their evil people in the world? Dad, what's the meaning of life? Dad, what's a French effing kiss!"'

Hermione smiled modestly and straightened Ron's jumper.

'Ron, no offence, but I rather think our child would come to _me_ with such questions. Oh look, your socks don't match.'

Ron looked at his feet. One of his socks had pale brown stripes, and the other one had dark brown stripes.

'Okay, so I'll be the eccentric Uncle Ron. That'll scar the kid less, right?'

--x--x--

'What's up with Ron?' Ginny asked. 'He's been moping by himself in that chair since you got here.'

'He's freaking out about being a father,' Hermione said and pushed her nose into baby James's tummy. 'Wook at this wittwe pwump bewwy and these wittwe toes! Who has the most perfect baby toes in the world? Why, James does! Yes, he does!'

'Harry freaked out, too,' Ginny said and tickled the sole of James's foot. 'It's a male thing. They think they're going to mess up the kid. It all comes from that powerful, buff male cheer. You know, "am man, must grunt". Then when they're about to become a father, they realise they will actually have to include sensitivity in the mix.'

Hermione laughed and raised baby James high. He let out a gurgle and a stream of spit, kicking his plump legs frantically.

'Sorry,' Ginny said and dabbed Hermione's moist dress with a cloth. 'Get ready to never be clean again.'

'Really?' Hermione said casually. '_Never_ clean again?'

'Oh yes,' Ginny said and took James. 'Always puke here, spit there, pee on your hands, poo on the floor...come on, sweetie, time to sleep.'

Harry rushed to help her up, and Hermione crossed her hands on her belly. _Never clean again_... She shifted uneasily on the sofa. Stains everywhere, eating their way through the fabric and the wood... She shook her head to banish the thought and looked at Ron. He was browsing through a photo album, and Hermione could hear James's baby gurgles from the photos. Gurgles...spit...puke...stains..._sticky stains_...none of that neat smell of a freshly cleaned house ever again...or that magnificent shine of a polished table...

'So, Hermione, how are things?' Harry sat beside her and offered her a bowl of popcorn. 'Nervous?'

'A little,' Hermione said breathily and grabbed a handful of popcorn. Several fell on her dress, leaving tiny grease marks on it. She swallowed and balled her fist.

'Er, Harry. Say, how dirty is a baby exactly, you know, overall speaking?'

'Oh, they're little poo machines,' Harry said fondly, his eyes following Ginny, who was rocking James's cot on the other side of the room. 'But you won't even notice it because you'll be so engrossed with the baby.'

'Can I have that, please?' Hermione dropped her uneaten popcorns into the bowl and heaved herself up. 'Ron, we have to leave.'

Ron looked up from a photo of Harry holding James.

'Something wrong?'

'No, I'm just tired. Thanks for the dinner, Ginny. See you, Harry.'

She took Ron's hand and pulled him out of the room despite Ginny's and Harry's astonished looks. Ron shrugged apologetically and threw the album to Harry. Hermione apparated straight from the hall, shushing Ron's attempts at talking. When they reached their house, Ron opened his mouth once again, but Hermione pressed her finger on his lips.

'Forget that grunting male stuff, or whatever it is. We have an emergency here.'

'What grunting stuff?' Ron asked, but he was already being whirled into the bedroom. 'Don't tell me you're getting mushy again?'

'No, you twit. Look!' Hermione pulled out a drawer and pointed at the neatly folded baby clothes with her trembling hand. 'They're colour-co-ordinated and cross-referenced by size!'

'Yes, and I love you nevertheless. What's the matter?'

'The dirt, Ron! The dirt!' Hermione wailed and sat in the rocking chair her father had made for baby feeding sessions. 'The baby is going to be dirty! Nothing will ever be clean again!'

'Ah,' Ron said with a knowing smile. 'Freaking out there, are we, missus? Not so easy after all?'

'I'm not freaking out,' Hermione said peevishly. 'But we _have_ to re-organise the baby stuff.' She kicked the chair so that she practically flew up, and wobbled to the drawer. 'This one has all the bibs, socks, sleepsuits, and T-shirts. We must first categorise them by colour, then size, then material, and finally by dirt resistance.' She held up a tiny white shirt. 'Look at this. How could I have bought something like this? This is a dirt magnet! It must go.'

'Hermione...' Ron seized her hand. 'You're not going to throw away a perfectly fine shirt. Didn't you honestly ever think about the dirt aspect before?'

'_No!_' Hermione said shrilly and pulled out a pile of socks. 'These are all wrong, look! The lacy ones you bought can't be next to the sensible ones I got. We must arrange them so that the fine ones can be accessed most easily when the baby is at its cleanest and the good ones when dirt is most likely to occur.'

'At least the dirt will go away when the tot hits puberty and starts primping him- or herself,' Ron said morosely and flopped on the bed. 'But the messed-up part will always be there. Years after the dirt, the tot will sit on a psychiatrist's sofa complaining about a loopy, emotionally distant father who would only grunt when confronted with the question of the purpose of life.'

'Tosh!' Hermione threw a pile of bibs at Ron. 'See which ones are made of the strongest material and put them in one pile. The flimsy ones will go to charity, and tomorrow we'll buy more of the sturdy ones. Also, we have to get that new _Super Cleaning Spells_ book, and Mum has these plastic sofa covers in the attic. They'll be perfect -'

She ceased when she saw Ron biting his lip and staring at a pink velvet dress with crystals on the collar and five layers of lace in the hem. Their eyes met, and Hermione felt her mouth twitch.

'Oh Ron,' she said, half-chuckling and half-sighing, and sat beside him. 'We're a fine sight, aren't we?'

'Yes indeed, my little maniac.' Ron put his hand around her shoulder. 'Let's face it: we're going to mess up the kid anyway, so we might as well try to make the best of it.'

Hermione smoothed out a sleepsuit against her belly.

'Well, considering how well Harry turned out, I guess a slightly, um, _high-maintenance_ mother -in the nicest way possible, of course- and a goofy father -'

'Only slightly, and in the nicest way possible,' Ron interjected.

'Naturally. Anyway, that kind of parents can't damage a child beyond repair. Right?'

'Absolutely not. Just a bit,' Ron said. 'Say it's a girl. So, I'll feed her sweets and keep the blokes away until she's thirty or so, and you'll lecture her about hard work, orderliness, and the rights of women into the bargain. If it's a boy, I'll put incredible pressure on him to play Quidditch and be a real, buff man, and you'll lecture him about sensitivity, the needs of women, and the importance of clean, matching socks. If we have more than one kid, we'll just repeat the process. Then we'll throw the kids out into the world and watch them mess up their own kids.'

Hermione grinned.

'And then we'll be the _wickedest_ grandparents in the world.'


	15. Get This Baby Out!

_Author's note: My deepest apologies for taking so long to update! Real life has been inconveniently busy. Thanks for your patience! Not long to go...:-)  
_

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Chapter 15: Get This Baby Out!

'Ron!'

Hermione's whisper echoed in the dark room. It was quiet save the faint snoring coming from under the mop of tousled red hair beside her.

'Ron!' Hermione rumpled the ginger curls. 'It's time!'

'Wha?' Ron raised his head, his eyes half-closed.

'I'm having the baby!'

'What? Now?' Ron rushed up so that the bed squeaked and his feet tangled in the sheets. 'Oh, shoot!' He swayed, flailing his hands, and fell beside the bed with a thump. Hermione grimaced and leaned to look over the edge.

'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine, I'm fine!' Ron's head emerged again. 'Don't panic! I'll boil some water and...get some...rags...you just...spread your legs...'

Hermione wrenched herself up, fighting laughter.

'We're going to the hospital, you twit. I've already packed my bag, remember? No hot water and rags needed. Just help me _u-u-up_!' A powerful wave of pain crippled her lower abdomen, and she collapsed back down.

'Is it a contraction?' Ron jumped onto the bed, sending the pillows flying, and took her hand. 'Push!'

'I can't push yet!' Hermione panted. 'Come on, you know this stuff. I've quizzed you about this stuff. Get my _ba-a-ag_!' Another wave of pain tore through her, and her nails dug deep into Ron's arm.

'Oh my -' Ron pressed his lips together and doubled over. 'I think we need to gooo! Hermione, you're cutting off my arm!'

'I don't care!' Hermione could feel sweat beading on her forehead. 'Just get me to the hospital, NOW!'

--x--x--

'I'm so sorry,' Hermione said sheepishly and smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress. 'I've read about false labour, and I should have recognised it.'

'Don't worry, false contractions are very common, and they aren't always easy to tell from real contractions, especially when it's your first pregnancy,' the mediwizard said and patted Hermione's shoulder. 'I gave your husband a few brochures that you can read to find out more. Now, go home and have some rest.'

Ron emerged from the loo, shaking his hand. He was wearing only his pyjamas and a jumper.

'I think I need a sickie. Look at this hand, it's basically defunct.'

'Nonsense. I just squeezed it a bit,' Hermione said and pointed at the bag on the floor. 'Let's go, I need to lie down.'

Ron gave her a dark look.

'And _I_ need an ice bucket.'

They apparated home. Juno, their brand new owl, was ruffling her wings and hooting softly on the porch. Ron scratched her silky head absent-mindedly and let out a deep yawn.

'I'll put the kettle on,' Hermione said as Ron tucked the bag under a chair. 'I can't sleep, and I have to read those brochures...'

'Go wild, old girl,' Ron said, his chin stretching into another long yawn. 'And _please_ don't wake me up again until you can see the head.'

--x--x--

'False labour?' Ginny said with a grin. 'I had one with James. It was embarrassing.'

'And it scared the poor Harry to death,' Molly said and gave Hermione a bowl full of dark red soup. 'Here, sweetie, it'll help you relax.'

'Thanks,' Hermione said, even though the soup looked like cooked blood. 'Actually, we call those Braxton-Hicks contractions in the Muggle world. It's rather interesting, really -'

Ron winked at Harry, who coughed to hide his smile. Arthur, however, leaned on eagerly.

'Yes?'

'...well, it appears that wizards have known about these false contractions since 1254 when Augustus Worple was studying pregnant witches in Inveraray. Hence, they're called Worple contractions here, but the Muggles only discovered them in 1827. It was an English doctor called John Braxton Hicks, who -'

'Amazing.' Arthur plucked a spoon into his tea cup. 'Now, tell me, what is this "epicuring" thing I keep hearing about?'

--x--x--

Hermione stared at the ceiling where shadows of trees danced in the bright autumn sunlight.

'Come on, baby,' she whispered. 'I would so like to meet you already.'

Nothing, not even a kick. Or a Braxton-Hicks contraction, for that matter. Hermione groaned and reached for the pile of books on the table beside the sofa.

'Which book?' Ron peeked from behind his _Quidditch Monthly_.

'_A Witchy Pregnancy_.'

'Coming right up...' Ron flicked his wand, and a green, hefty volume floated into the air and opened quietly in front of Hermione. 'See, swish and flick.' Ron winked, but Hermione managed only a miserable grimace.

'I don't understand why the baby won't come out. I'm a week past my due date, and I can barely function any more! Look at my belly!' Hermione stroked her magnificent bump wistfully. 'Besides, why's Ginny's belly half smaller?'

Ron sighed.

'We've been through this. She's titchy, and Harry's a shorty.'

'Are you implying I'm a porker?'

'No, dear rib, I'm not implying you're a porker. I'm implying that you have a Ron-baby in there.' Ron flexed his arm muscles, his eyes twinkling, but Hermione sniffed.

'Still. It's not fair. There _has_ to be something in here...' Hermione flipped the pages of the book furiously. '"Foods to Avoid"..."Charms for Your Feet"..."Coping with the Hormone Tornado"...ha! "Ways to Induce Labour"!'

'I forbid you to stand on your head or run around a pole naked,' Ron said idly and summoned an apple from a bowl behind the books.

Hermione ignored him and ran her finger along the list.

'Herbs...castor oil...spicy foods...walking...making love...' She looked up hopefully. 'Well, what do you think?'

'Are you out of your mind?' Ron dropped the magazine, looking indignant. 'I'm not boinking you when you have a belly that size. I'd end up crushing the tot!'

'Believe me, I'm not keen to be boinked either in this condition, but it says here that making love is a very effective way to induce labour.'

'You'll have to find other ways of inducing,' Ron said stubbornly and bit his apple.

'Fine, I'll try these other things first, but I warn you...if they don't work, I'm dragging you to the bedroom,' Hermione said. She copied down the list and struggled up to check the contents of the kitchen cupboards. There was no castor oil, and the herb jars were woefully empty, but Molly would no doubt have some. Hermione called for Juno and sent her to the Burrow with a short letter tied on her leg. As she waited for her to return, she started walking around the living room and doing somestretches.

'Ah, pineapple!' She noticed another item on the list as she marched past the fireplace. 'Ron, you'll have to pop out to get me some pineapple. And find out if that new Muggle Imports shop sells chilli beans. Or canned chilli con carne.'

'Hermione.' Ron stretched out his hand to catch her. 'Don't you think you're overreacting a tad? The baby'll come out when she's ready.'

'Easy to say when you're not lugging around a twenty-pound belly! Besides, I'm convinced it's a boy. _Know Your Bump_ has these illustrations of belly shapes, and mine's definitely a boy shape.'

'Tosh, it's a Weasley princess,' Ron said and stood up. 'So, pineapple, dill...what else?'

'Chilli,' Hermione corrected. 'It's a spicy Muggle food. Oh, and get some castor oil just in case, and black and blue cohosh.'

'Black and blue what?'

'Cohosh, it's an herb. Wait! Do you have your Wizbirth tag in case I go into labour?'

'Always with me, muffin.' Ron tapped a brown leather bracelet with a tiny paper pad and pen on his wrist. 'I swear, this is one of George's best inventions. Hospitals and shops all over the world are ordering them like crazy.'

'Indeed.' Hermione changed her direction and did a jig of sorts. 'Off you go. I want my baby.'

--x--x--

'Come out!' Hermione wailed and hit the pillow. 'Why doesn't he want to come out?'

'She loves your comfy womb so much,' Ron muttered sleepily. 'Is it hot in here?'

'I'm ten days past my due date,' Hermione said and brushed away a tear of frustration. 'My body isn't functioning the way it should!'

'Muffin, I know you're ill equipped to deal with things that don't go by the book, but remember what the mediwizard said: due dates are just rough estimates, and your body takes as long as it needs.'

'Rubbish. My due date must have been calculated wrong. Ron, come on!'

'What?' Ron buried his head in the pillow.

'Make love to me! I've been drinking oil and eating spices for days now, but they don't help. Making love is the only thing left on my list.'

Ron raised his head and swept a curl from his eyes.

'Hermione,' he said dignifiedly. 'We've been through this. I don't feel comfortable making love to you while our baby -note: baby, not embryo- is just inches away, ripe and ready to pop out.'

'And we've been through the sausage stage, too.' Hermione ground her teeth. 'The baby is well protected, so stop mucking around. In fact...' She shifted sideways and bumped into Ron, who raised his arms in astonishment.

'What are you d-...Hermione!'

Hermione wrenched herself on top of Ron and started opening the strings of his pyjama trousers.

'Hermione, stop it!' Ron tried to force her hands away, but she hissed like an angry cat.

'I've had it with being pregnant. You _will_ get this baby out of me, Ronald Weasley!'

'This is highly improper!' Ron tugged at the strings in Hermione's hands. 'Get down, woman!'

'Put a sock in it,' Hermione said breathily and pulled the string out in one slick motion. 'Trousers off, Ronald.'

'I will not be manhandled like this!' Ron wriggled under Hermione, who had clamped her legs tightly around him. 'As your husband, I command you to stop!'

'Then act like a husband,' Hermione said between gritted teeth and pulled down the pyjama trousers. 'I thought all men dreamed of an aggressive..._oh!_' She halted suddenly.

'Hermione!' Ron's eyes rounded and moved down to his waist. 'You're a bit excited, aren't you?'

Hermione lifted the hem of her nightgown. A slow smile spread on her face.

'No, Ron,' she whispered. '_My water just broke._'


	16. The Princess Is Born, Part 1

****

Chapter 16: The Princess Is Born - Part 1

'Incoming woman in labour!'

Ron threw open the doors of St Tinytoes and pushed Hermione in. 'We need anti-pain spells and hot water and towels! Over here, nurse!' He grabbed at a passing witch in a white suit. 'Come on, a chair for my wife, woman!' He poked at the nurse's arm. 'Can't you see that she's about to give birth?'

'Calm down, Ron.' Hermione seized his hand. 'I'm fine, sorry,' she said to the nurse, who was looking at them with an appalled expression.

'Your water broke,' Ron said. 'Now is not the time to be calm! I will _not_ have baby Rommy flopping on the floor!'

Hermione smiled apologetically at the nurse, who had folded her hands on her ample chest.

'Please forgive my husband. This is our first baby.'

'I can see that,' the nurse said, eyeing Ron from head to toe. 'Has your water broken?'

'Yes, half an hour ago. And I'm timing my contractions.' Hermione dug out her pocket watch. 'So far I've had one, twenty-six minutes ago.'

The nurse snorted and veered around the reception.

'In that case you have no reason to run around like a headless chicken, Mrs...?'

'Weasley,' Ron said and slammed the bag on the counter. 'And are you out of your mind? Of course we're in a hurry. Her water broke, for Merlin's sake!'

'I know all about the stages of labour,' Hermione said, slightly offended. 'But I wanted to play it safe, and my husband, you see...'

'Indeed.' The nurse raised her black, bushy eyebrows and took out a quill and a piece of parchment. 'Fill this form, please.'

Hermione filled the form while Ron sniffed and huffed beside her, shooting dismayed looks at the nurse. He eyed Hermione's progress, and when she put down the quill, he instantly rang the bell. The nurse took an abnormally long time to put down her parchments and move to their end of the counter to check the form.

'This seems to be in order,' she said, wrinkling her nose. 'Unfortunately, we're swamped tonight. Three mediwizards are sick, and a record number of witches have gone into labour, so we've had to call in volunteers to help. They don't have official medical training, but they are all experienced in childbirth. You'll be assigned one when we have a moment.' She took the quill and looked at them no more.

'Thanks,' Hermione said. 'What room - oh!' She grabbed at the counter as sudden pain made her knees buckle. 'C-contraction...'

'I'm here!' Ron dashed to her side and took her hand. 'Breathe! Breathe! Nurse, get her a chair!'

'W-watch,' Hermione breathed as Ron stroked her back. 'Check the t-time!'

Ron whipped out his watch.

'11:58 pm. The chair!' He turned to the nurse, who was putting the form into a box labelled "Non-Urgent Patients".

'I'm okay,' Hermione said weakly and leaned against Ron. 'It's over.'

Ron held her close and brushed her cheek, his lips tight and white. He laid his wand on the counter so that it pointed straight at the nurse, the golden Auror imprint glowing in the light of the chandelier above.

'My wife is in pain. You will get her a chair. _Now._'

The nurse's eyes widened as they caught the Auror ornament.

'Of course. Begging your pardon, sir,' she said quickly and pointed her wand at a pile of wooden wheelchairs in the corner. The top one jumped into the air and floated gracefully to Hermione.

'Room 72 1/6,' the nurse said with a twitchy smile. 'Someone should be over soon to examine you, Mrs Weasley.'

'Thank you,' Ron said and helped Hermione in the chair. It zoomed quietly onwards.

'This is an interesting device.' Hermione looked over the arm at the wheels that rolled slowly in the air. 'The wheels are useless in this model, whereas in Muggle wheelchairs they're essential. I do wonder if they were actually used at some point of the chair's evolution, or if they're there just for decorative purposes...'

'Bloody nurse,' Ron muttered as he followed the chair into a long corridor. 'Can't imagine what she was thinking...water broke...no chair...contraction...'

'Never mind,' Hermione said. 'You were deliciously scary. By the way, I wonder if our room is shared.'

'Shared?' Ron looked at her in astonishment. 'Of course it isn't shared, you're giving birth! Look.' He gestured around the corridor. Rows and rows of doors, all different colours, lined the walls.

'Of course, magic.' Hermione smiled and stroked her belly. 'I was really quite nervous about having to share with someone. Childbirth is such an intimate experience. Or you know, so I've read.'

The orange door of room number 72 1/6 opened quietly as they approached it. Ron helped the chair in and put the bag on the floor.

'Oh, Ron!' Hermione exhaled. 'It's lovely!'

The walls were half-panelled, and the top half was covered with cream-coloured wallpaper with pink roses. Pale yellow curtains fluttered slightly in the window, exposing a bright sliver of the moon. There was a comfortable bed near the window, and the rest of the floor was decked with pillows, armchairs, plush toys, and a puffy sofa.

The wheelchair zoomed to an empty spot by the door, and Hermione stood up, holding her belly and examining a tall shelf on the other side of the wheelchair.

'Look, there's a gramophone, and some magazines -ha, even _The Quibbler!_- and lotion...and look at these slippers!' She held up a furry pair of bunny slippers. '"The patented Birth Bunnies gently massage your feet while keeping them comfortably cool."'

'That's all fine and dandy, but you have to lie down now,' Ron said and steered Hermione towards the bed. 'You could have another contraction any minute.'

'Nah, the last interval was over twenty minutes,' Hermione said and touched a letter on a purple table by the bed. 'What's this?'

The letter jumped into the air and opened like a mouth.

'Welcome to birthing room 72 1/6,' said a chirpy voice. 'We hope you enjoy your stay and that your little witch or wizard has a pleasant start in life. The room is equipped with a Wizuper Bunk 1000, which offers unparalleled comfort for the mother-to-be. Also, pillows, armchairs, and a sofa are provided in case the mother feels more comfortable using them in the active labour stage. The closet opposite the bed hosts clothes for the mother and her birthing partner, as well as a supply of ice, towels, and spell books. Drinks and snacks can be found on the top shelf of the closet. If you wish to contact a member of the staff for assistance, please press the yellow button by the bed. If there is an emergency, please press the red button below the yellow one. Should you wish to listen to this message again, please tap the letter with your wand. Thanks for choosing St Tinytoes, and happy labour!'

The letter folded itself and floated back to the table.

Hermione grinned and sat on the bed.

'Oh, this is nice, very firm yet soft.'

Ron bent down to untie her shoes.

'I think we should get you changed right away. Mum said the hospital clothes are pretty nice here.'

'And look at this!' Hermione lay back to pick a blanket from a baby basket on the other side of the bed. 'It's so soft!'

'Easy there, bright eyes,' Ron said and pulled Hermione up to remove her cloak and dress. 'I have a feeling you'll be cursing my name profoundly before the tot's here...lift your arm...'

'I'm just so happy we're here,' Hermione said as Ron pulled the dress over her head. 'I'm _so_ tired of this belly.'

'Let's see...' Ron opened the closet and rummaged through the piles of clothes. 'I think this one's for you.' He gave Hermione a small, blue dress that was open at the back. 'And I suppose these are for me.' He threw a pair of loose white trousers and a shirt on the bed.

'"Self-expanding,"' Hermione read the label on the dress. 'I guess it moulds to my size automatically. That's actually really handy, you know, as it eliminates the need for different sizes. Oh, and it slips right on. Look, even the strings tie themselves!'

Ron's mop of hair emerged from the neck hole of the shirt.

'Sweet. I look like a crackpot run away from a mental institution,' he said and craned his neck to examine himself. 'These trousers are practically a skirt.'

'You look fine, very dashing,' Hermione said and climbed on the bed. 'You have to try this, it's heavenly -'

A sudden commotion in the corridor made them look at the door. It sounded like a herd of wild cattle accompanied by frantic voices.

_'69 4/9...70 1/3...not far now...'  
'What odd room numbers...'  
'Arthur, stop brushing the walls with the flowers!'  
'I'm not, Molly, this bouquet is simply too big!'  
'I wonder how far along she is...'  
'Ah! Here!'_

The door burst open, and Arthur and Molly rushed in with Hermione's parents in tail.

'Hermione, sweetheart! Finally!' Molly ran to hug Hermione, bumping into Mrs Granger in her daze. 'How are you, dear? We came as soon as we got hold of the Grangers. Have you had any contractions yet?'

'Yes, two,' Hermione said, spitting Molly's wild curls from her mouth. 'Twenty-eight minutes apart, both lasting about forty-five seconds.'

Molly coughed and patted Hermione's hand.

'I'm sure it's very good you came in early, sweetie.'

'Molly, do give way to the Grangers,' Arthur said and felt his chest pocket. 'How are you holding up, son? I have a gift for you...if I could just find it...'

Molly moved aside, still breathing rapidly, and her eyes fell on Ron.

'You have rubbed her back, haven't you?' she asked and tugged at his shirt to straighten out a wrinkle. 'You have to be very supportive, you know. Labour is terribly painful and tiring.'

Hermione grimaced.

'How are you, sweetie?' Mrs Granger sat on the bed and squeezed Hermione's hand. A wave of emotion rushed through Hermione, and her sight blurred with tears. 'I'm fine,' she whispered. 'I'm so glad you're here.'

'We wouldn't miss it for the world,' her father said. 'And we brought you a little something...' He laid a bouquet of yellow roses on the bed and opened a plastic bag. 'Flowers, chocolate, and this.' He held up a thick opus, _Nose Warts and Black Cats - A Modern View of the Witch Hunts_.

'Oh, Dad!' Hermione grabbed the book. 'It's wonderful! Thanks so much. I can't wait to dig in!'

'And here's our bouquet.' Molly placed a rather suffered bunch of pink flowers on the bed. 'I'm afraid Arthur wasn't very careful with them.'

'Never mind.' Hermione smiled at Arthur, who was still digging through his pockets. 'They're lovely, thanks. Ron, would you...?'

'Sure.' Ron picked up the bouquets and put them in vases on the windowsill. 'They said someone would come over soon to examine Hermione, but they have a shortage of mediwizards tonight.'

'Hermione hasn't been examined yet?' Mr Granger asked, his brow furrowed. 'Do you even know how much you've dilated?'

Ron's ears went crimson, but before he managed to say anything, the door creaked.

'Ah, this must be a mediwizard now,' Mr Granger said eagerly.

The door slid fully open. A tall woman draped in a glittering, black dress stood on the doorstep, blinking hazily at them. Her watery blue eyes wandered slowly over the group and finally stopped at Hermione. She extended her hand and swept into the room like a violent breeze.

'My dear wombette, are you ready to travel the joyous journey of the expanding flesh?'


	17. The Princess is Born, Part 2

**Author's note:** This is the final chapter of _Moments of Love_! I'm sorry it took so long, but I had a case of writer's block and I started studying, too. But the fic is finished now, and little Rosie has arrived. :-) Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed the story!  
-Caro  
PS. I have one chapter I never posted, and I might post it as an extra at some point after I clean it up a bit. :-)

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Princess Is Born - Part 2**

_You are the sunshine of my life,  
that's why I'll always be around.  
You are the apple of my eye,  
forever you'll stay in my heart._  
-Stevie Wonder

Gwendolyn Trelawney walked to Hermione's bedside like a spindly spider, eyeing the Grangers and the Weasleys blankly in passing.

'My dearest wombette, fear not. I trust you know my book inside out by now and thus are ripe to expel the seed of flesh -' She stopped abruptly as she placed her hand on Hermione's belly. 'Why, the canals are still blocked. I can sense the constipation like a hard nugget, blocking the passageway to the pulsating cosmos. Have you taken enough plum?'

'I, er, not really,' Hermione said and shot a helpless look at Ron. 'Ron, would you...?'

Ron cleared his throat and swept in-between Hermione and Trelawney, who looked up at him as though he were a mildly interesting insect.

'We're expecting a mediwizard to examine my wife, so if you'd step aside.'

'But my dear boy.' Trelawney pushed his face almost to Ron chest. 'The child can't find its way out if the mother is hard like a shrivelled apricot.'

'I'm not hard,' Hermione said peevishly and tapped Ron's behind. 'Get rid of her!'

'Yes, well, as you can see, we're about to have a baby here, and the mediwizard should arrive soon. I'm sure you'll find unblocked canals further down the corridor.' Ron steered Trelawney towards the door.

'Dear boy, I _am_ your mediwizard.' Trelawney straightened herself and threw her glittering scarf over her shoulder. 'I've been volunteering here even since I found out about the brutal, non-cosmic methods the mediwizards use for childbirth.' She rolled up her sleeves and curved her index finger. 'Now, if you'd open your legs, wombette, and I'll -'

'No!' Hermione drew herself up on the bed. 'Ron - oh!' She grabbed at her belly.

'Contraction!' Molly cried and bumped Ron out of the way. 'Breathe!'

Ron tried to fight his way back to the bedside past Mrs Granger, who had taken Hermione's hand, but Gwendolyn Trelawney leaped forward and shoved him aside.

'Away man, the quest for superior wombness has begun! Open your legs, wombette, and let fresh air into the dark, clogged sewers that long for light and freedom from the chains of mind constraints - for the ultimate wombness!'

'Ron!' Hermione half-panted, half-wailed.

'We need a warming spell,' Molly said and threw her cloak away like a magician. 'Warming spells are great for relaxing the mother. Arthur used to be quite a whiz with them, didn't you, dear? _Thermae!_'

A pale yellow gush of air spurred from her wand and circled Hermione's belly like a string of fire.

'Stop such nonsense!' Gwendolyn Trelawney tried to force Molly's hand away. 'Warming spells teach the wombettes to rely on outside forces, _artificial forces_, instead of their inner womb!' She knocked Molly down with her high-heeled boot and started weaving Hermione's belly like a lump of dough, singing a high-pitched song. 'Stretch, o' flesh! Yearn, o' womb! Tear, o' canal!'

'Ron!' Hermione wailed, ripping the mattress with both hands.

'I'm here, muffin!' Ron slammed onto Molly, who was tussling with Gwendolyn Trelawney, but she swept him away like a feather.

'Ah, found it!' Arthur said happily and raised his hand high. 'A rubber duck for the baby to celebrate his or her Muggle ancestry! I went to three different shops in Muggle London to find this. What fascinating places they were! I bought myself a commuter game. I suspect it's something you play in trains, yes?'

Hermione pushed Trelawney aside and wobbled up. She grabbed Ron's shirt by the chest, her eyes flashing with fire.

'GET HER OUT OF HERE, OR MR WIZARD WILL NEVER GET TO VISIT THE ENCHANTED FOREST AGAIN!'

'Why, Hermione,' Arthur said, blushing.

'Good, excellent, keep moving!' Trelawney followed Hermione, making elaborate movements around her with her wand. 'You need to give in to the cosmos, yield your hard, withered centre to it. When you do, the child will slip out like the morning star.'

'Of course, muffin, I'll see what I can do. Why don't you go back to bed now...' Ron backed away from Hermione, who was still holding to his shirt, steaming.

'Here wombette, we must continue. Ignore the man, for they are but seed-bearers and have no part in true wombness.' Trelawney turned Hermione around. 'Close your eyes, feel the cosmos rippling around you, quivering with anticipation for its newest member-to-be. Open yourself like a budding flower reaching for the sun!'

'Nonsense,' Molly said and seized Hermione's hand. 'You come back to bed, and I'll do a long-lasting warming spell. They always helped me.'

Ron turned around hesitantly and made for the door, but Hermione's scream made him spin around.

'Oh, contraction!' Hermione collapsed on her knees, holding to the bedpost. 'Ron! I think the baby's coming!'

'Sweetheart, I'm sure it's not coming so soon,' Mrs Granger said calmly and lifted Hermione up with Mr Granger. 'First-time mothers are often confused and insecure about labour, and the pain takes most by surprise even if they've read extensively about it. But remember that when you put your mind to it, you can do anything, and you can get through this, too.'

'No, no, I really think something's comiiiinnnnnggg!'

'Don't scrunch yourself, wombette, you're blocking the canal.' Trelawney grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and heaved her backwards. 'There, raise your arms and spread your legs like spring's first flower, so in tune with the pulsating orb of the cosmos. Be the womb!'

'Quiet, hack!' Molly pulled up the hem of Hermione's dress and stuck her wand between her legs. 'Let's aim one where it helps the most. Thermae!'

'Let go, old woman!' Gwendolyn Trelawney pulled the hem back down so that Hermione lurched forward. 'You and your medieval methods!'

'Do you think I should get a mini bathtub for the duck?' Arthur asked, examining the toy in his hand. 'Wouldn't it be lovely?'

'STOP IT!'

Everybody halted and turned to Ron. He was standing at the door, his cheeks crimson and his eyes burning. With one swift movement, he flung open the door and grabbed Molly by the arm.

'Mum, Dad, thanks for coming, but you will wait in the reception now. Same for you, Mr and Mrs Granger. And Miss Trelawney, you will leave, too. My wife is about to have a baby and she needs peace and quietness. Our baby will not be born into this sort of madness!'

Molly and Gwendolyn Trelawney stared at Ron, both panting and looking doubtful, and Arthur dropped the duck. Hermione crawled towards the bed, holding her belly and sniffling.

'Yes, you're right, Ron. We should go and leave you in peace.' Mr Granger coughed and ushered the flummoxed Weasleys and the struggling Gwendolyn Trelawney firmly out. 'We'll be in the reception if you need us. Good luck, sweetheart.'

The door clicked, and Hermione climbed on the bed, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

'L-look,' she said and pointed at red specks on the duvet. 'The baby's coming and we have n-no m-mediwizard-d!'

Ron knelt by the bed and hugged her tightly, kissing her sweaty forehead. He puffed the pillow behind her back and took her face in his hands.

'Hermione, you'll be fine. Just keep breathing and try to stay calm. I'm going to get someone to help you. Can you manage alone for a short while?'

Hermione nodded with a hiccough and a sniff. The cupboard creaked and opened as if it had heard her, and an orange handkerchief fluttered to the bed. Hermione blew her nose noisily in it.

'Please hurry.'

'I will. Just press the emergency button and scream if you need help,' Ron said and patted Hermione's belly. 'I'll be right back!'

He ran out of the door. The corridor was empty, but ear-piercing screams echoed from behind several doors. A short, plump wizard in a blue top hat came out of a green door, jumping up and down and conjuring fireworks from his wand.

'It's a _wizard_! A little wizard! I knew it!'

He blew Ron a kiss and danced down the corridor. Ron shook his head and continued to the reception. The corner of Gwendolyn Trelawney's dress flashed in the large plant-decorated area, and Ron backed quickly away and turned to another corridor. A blond young man in a white cloak was hurrying towards him, and Ron's eyes immediately latched onto the round "M" sign on his chest.

'You! Are you a mediwizard?'

The man nodded with a puzzled smile.

'I'm from St Mungo's. We just brought a patient here.'

'Can you handle childbirth?'

'Er, well, I've done a few emergency ones and I did take labour basics in Ye Olde Medicine Academie, but -'

'Great! My wife's in labour, and these people try to pass a loony for a mediwizard. She needs help.' Ron started dragging the man towards room number 72 1/6. 'Quickly now, she's in a lot of pain!'

'But I'm not staff here!'

'Never mind, you're better than a lunatic chanting about pulsating orbs! I'll pay you whatever you want.'

Ron threw the door open and thrust the man in. Hermione didn't look at them; she was on all fours on the bed, and her face was twisted with pain.

'Hermione!' Ron rushed to the bed. 'Are you all right?'

'C-con-tra-ction-n...'

'Okay, breathe...' Ron stroked Hermione's back and gathered her loose curls on a bun on her neck. 'Everything's going to be fine; I brought you a mediwizard who at least looks normal.'

Hermione grimaced horribly, her face tomato red, and Ron continued caressing her back.

'Keep breathing...think of pretty flowers...and butterflies...and a cool breeze in the back garden...and, um, chocolate pudding with caramel sauce...'

'Uhh!' Hermione collapsed on her face, hugging a pillow. 'That was a bad one. Thanks, Ron.'

'Wait a minute, are you Ron and Hermione?' The blond man's face lit up with a delighted smile. 'Friends of Harry Potter?'

Ron nodded.

'This is a co-incidence!' The man swept over, his hand outstretched. 'I'm Henry Hodge. My wife went to Hogwarts with you, and she has told me so much about you. Parvati Patil?'

'Oh yes, Parvati.' Hermione's muffled voice came from the folds of the pillow. 'We met her some months ago. How is she?'

'She's fine. In fact, we're pregnant, too, and we just passed the three-month mark.' Henry took off his cloak and went to the wash basin. 'You look like you're ready to pop.'

'I _am_ popping,' Hermione said weakly. 'And this is the last child I'm ever going to have.'

'Now, now, what about those plans we had of our very own Quidditch team?' Ron said and helped Hermione on her back. Hermione gave him a murderous look.

'One more word, and it's snip-snip for Mr Wizard.'

Ron grinned wickedly.

'Don't try that with me, muffin. You love Mr Wizard.'

Hermione blushed and shushed furiously as Henry came closer, drying his hands.

'Let's see how you are, then. Open your legs.'

Ron went rigid as Hermione obeyed and Henry disappeared behind the hem of Hermione's dress. Hermione couldn't help smiling at Ron's tightened mouth and his eyes flicking angrily from a tuft of Henry's hair to her knees. He huffed and puffed and changed his position several times during the examination.

'That took long,' he said tartly when Henry finally straightened himself.

'This won't.' Henry gestured at Hermione's belly. 'The baby's coming, and we have to start doing some active pushing. Are you ready?'

x--x--x

'Come on, Hermione, one good push!'

'I...can't,' Hermione sobbed, sweat flowing from her forehead down to her neck in a constant stream. 'It's...too...h-hard.'

Ron squeezed her hand and wiped her face with an icy cloth.

'Yes, you can. Remember what _Lovely Labour_ said? Think of each push as a step closer to your baby. One more push, and we'll meet little Rommy.'

'Uhm.' Hermione took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on the picture of a tap-dancing baby on the ceiling.

'Ready?' Henry's voice echoed from behind Hermione's dress. 'One...two...three!'

And Hermione pushed, pushed like she had never pushed before. Ron's voice was a distant echo in the cloud of pain, and Henry's figure had disappeared from her fuzzy sight. A piercing cry, and a strange feeling of emptiness encompassed her. The bed below her vanished; she was floating on the softest cotton. Something violently orange came closer, and something soft touched her lips. It tasted and smelled familiar, but salty.

Ron's blue eyes watched her, smiling and full of tears. His voice had never been so shaky, so heavy with emotion.

'Hermione, we have a daughter.'

x--x--x

A swirl of chestnut hair peeked out from under the pink hat. The tiny eyes were tightly shut, but the lips were pursing and the little hands and feet moved inside the blanket.

'What are you thinking of, dumpling?'

Ron touched the baby's cheek with his pinky. The little mouth puckered again.

'It's just you and me now. Yes, because Mummy's sleeping. See?' Ron turned carefully in the rocking chair. Hermione's even breathing rose from the bed, but only a tangle of brown hair was visible on the pillow. 'That's her. You gave her a bit of a hard time so she's tired, but it's okay. She said she'd do it again in a heartbeat. And I'm Daddy. I'm the one you should come to when Mommy says you can't have sweets or that you can't play Quidditch before you do your homework. Actually, whenever you need something, just come to me and I'll make things better. Okay?'

Ron moved the blanket aside and shook the little hand very, very softly.

'Let's shake on it. There. Don't tell Mommy, though, it'll be our secret. Do we have a deal? Good. Let's see...you don't have siblings yet, but you've already met your grandparents. They're the loud people who kissed you all over and didn't want to go home at all. They'll come again tonight, so you better prepare yourself. Although, you seemed to quite like Grandma Granger, didn't you? She's the quiet one. And these here...' Ron turned to the table that was full of flowers and gifts. 'See, these are from people you haven't met yet. This rattle is from your Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur...and this squeaky monkey is from your Uncle George and Aunt Angelina...and here's a basket of plush fruit toys from Uncle Neville...and some flowers and a nice colour-changing hat from Professor McGonagall...oh, and look, a miniature model of the cosmos from Miss Trelawney. And this amazing Quidditch uniform and these roses are from your Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny...look what pretty pink flowers they are...' Ron touched a silky blossom and lapsed into silence.

Hermione opened her eyes.

'Are you two conspiring something?'

'Of course,' Ron said and kissed the warm little forehead. 'And I'm never going to let her go. You'll get the next one, but this one's all mine.'

Hermione laughed softly.

'I'll fight you for her. Come, I want to hold her.'

Ron rose slowly, never letting his eyes off the baby, and lay her carefully on Hermione's arms.

'This is no doubt the most wonderful and perfect baby on earth. And I have a name for her.'

Hermione looked up.

'Please don't tell me it's Snugglypie or Cuddlytoes? I heard you call her both.'

Ron shook his head and put his arm around Hermione.

'No, Cuddlytoes will be her middle name. But her first name...' He pointed at the bouquet of pink flowers on the table. '_Rose_.'

As if she had heard him, the baby pursed her mouth into an almost smile, and her little fingers curled as though she were reaching for unseen stardust. Hermione pressed her cheek against the baby's head and smiled, tears blurring her sight.

'Ron, it's _perfect_.'

Ron smiled and rested his head on Hermione's shoulder. The sun smiled low in the bleak winter sky and slipped a ray of light on the little family. A new soul had arrived and two had become three; new adventures rose in the horizon, new joys, and new wonders. How delightful!


	18. Bonus Chapter

_Author's note: Here's an extra chapter of MoL that I never posted for some reason. :-) It was originally chapter 14, with three weeks to go to Rosie's birth. _

****

EXTRA: The Hormone Hurricane

Hermione sat painfully in a squishy armchair and positioned a pink bucket in front of herself. It swung in the air and toppled slightly as water sloshed into it from her wand. As the bucket filled, Hermione flipped through the pages of _A Yesteryear Pregnancy_ that was floating in midair on her other side.

'Come on,' she muttered. 'You _have_ to have something for back aches and insomnia...'

The bucket filled to the brim, and Hermione guided it carefully on the floor by her feet. Several small fabric pouches lay on her belly, and one slid to the floor as she peeked down to see that the bucket was in the right spot.

'Stupid root of beannut.' Hermione gave the disobedient pouch a nasty look. 'Fine, you go away, I don't need you. You're useless, like me. A huge, useless whale that can't sleep or even walk properly.'

She browsed frantically through the rest of the pouches and finally extracted two, lavender and mint. A delicious smell filled the room as she opened the drawstrings and charmed the herbs to pour into the bucket. She winced a bit as her hot feet sunk into the water, but soon a sweet sense of relief overtook her, and she leaned against the back of the chair. Her whole body relaxed and her wand fell on the floor from her limp hand.

Drat. She couldn't bend forward more than a few inches, if that, and getting up was impossible with both of her feet in the slippery bucket.

'Ron!' she called. A distant snore was the only answer. 'Ron!'

Nothing, not even a snore this time. Hermione ground her teeth.

'Ronald Weasley! You're responsible for this, so get your botty up and here RIGHT NOW!'

A bang told her that Ron had woken up, and soon he appeared in the doorway, wild-eyed and tousle-haired.

'What? You all right?' His eyes fixed on a wet spot on Hermione's nightgown, and he rushed towards her. 'Did your water break? Okay, don't panic! Just lie down and I'll...um, boil some hot water!'

'Calm down, my water didn't break. I just dropped my wand and I can't get u-up...' Hermione couldn't hold back a sob.

Ron picked up the wand and looked at the pink bucket with a confused expression.

'Why are you sitting with your feet in a bucket in the middle of the night?'

'Because in case you haven't noticed, I'm a whale and it's impossible for me to sleep comfortably.'

'Nah, you're not a whale.' Ron rumpled Hermione's hair. 'A small seal, maybe, but '

'RON!'

'Okay, okay, joking. Do you want a backrub?'

Hermione looked up, digging her fingernails into the soft velvet of the chair.

'And how would you do it? I can't lie on my stomach or sit without a back support. Look at my belly!'

Ron cocked his head and stroked his chin.

'Well, it's a Weasley baby, what do you expect?'

Hermione sniffed. She could feel the wave coming, and she quickly accioed herself a tissue from the kitchen counter. 'It's just...I really don't like being so helpless...oh Ron!' She buried her face in the tissue.

'What's wrong?' Ron knelt down by the chair. 'Are you sick?'

'No,' Hermione said with a hiccough. 'But I tried to put on my slippers, and my...my...feet don't fit in t-them any-m-more!'

'Ah, that's okay.' Ron patted Hermione's arm. 'I thought it was something serious.'

'This _is_ serious!'

'But women's feet always swell at the end of pregnancy. It says so in those books of yours.'

Hermione drew a deep breath and lifted her chin as dignifiedly as she could with her nose running.

'I can't believe you said that.'

'What?' Ron said puzzledly. 'They do, it's normal!'

'Maybe it's best you went back to sleep,' Hermione said icily and turned the page of her book.

*

'Can you ever learn to understand women?' Ron said morosely and threw his jacket on the table of the Aurors' lounge.

'Nope,' Harry said and flopped in a chair with a report in his hand. 'Problems in paradise?'

'I don't get it.' Ron popped open a can of sizzling pumpkin juice and lifted his feet on the table. 'I mean, last night Hermione was freaking out because her feet were swollen. I told her it's normal -I tried to make her feel _better_- and she flipped out on me.'

Harry nodded slowly, chewing the tip of his pen.

'I think the right thing to say would have been, 'Sweetie, your feet are not swollen and you look fantastic.''

'But her feet _were_ swollen, and she was agonising about it!'

'Female logic.' Harry shrugged. 'Or just pregnancy hormones. I know Ginny went berserk in the last weeks when we were expecting James. She thought she had lost her figure forever and she could never play Quidditch again. It was like walking on glass all day long. She's much more relaxed now, but I feel for you, mate.'

'Thanks,' Ron said and leaned back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. 'Three more weeks...'

*

Ron closed the door cautiously and folded his jacket on a stool. He smoothed out his trousers and checked his hair in the mirror before he stepped into the living room. The window was open, and a faint smell of cinnamon hung in the air.

'Ron!' Hermione emerged from the kitchen with a plaid scarf around her head and a vigorously swinging feather duster bobbing in the air ahead of her. She let the feather duster drop on the sofa and wobbled to Ron.

'I'm _so_ sorry I snapped at you last night! I - I missed you s-so m-much...' She buried her head against Ron's chest.

'That's all right,' Ron said, more confused than ever, and wrapped his arms around Hermione. Her belly was so big that he could hardly make his fingertips meet any more. 'I know you must be really uncomfortable, so I spoke to Mum this morning. She'd be happy to come and help you -'

Hermione pulled back abruptly and waved her hand.

'Thanks, but no need for that. I'm fine! In fact, I made some cinnamon rolls!' She wiped her nose and pulled Ron to the kitchen, where a kettle was bubbling cheerfully on the stove.

'Have you been _cleaning_?' Ron asked as Hermione pushed him in a chair and shoved a cinnamon roll in his hand. 'You absolutely shouldn't do that in your condition.'

'Oh, poppycock,' Hermione said and took the teapot. 'Do you like them? I made three batches.'

Ron bit into the rock-hard roll.

'It's, er, perfect,' he said, massaging his cheek. 'Look, you really should be sitting down. The nurse told you to take it easy until the birth.'

'Tosh, I feel great.' Hermione slammed a jar of jam on the table. '_It's Your Baby_ says women should listen to their own bodies more than nurses and doctors. I for one am going to clean the whole house before the baby arrives!'

_'What?'_

'See, I was thinking we could redecorate the living room. I know the baby's cot will be in our bedroom at first, but I really think we could pick lighter fabrics for the curtains, and -'

Ron rose up, took the teapot from Hermione's hand, and put it on the table.

'No, you're not going to clean the house, and no, you're not going to redecorate the living room,' he said firmly. 'You have three weeks till your due date, and you're going to rest. I want a happy and healthy wife and a happy and healthy baby.'

Hermione opened her mouth, but Ron pressed his finger gently on her lips.

'Mum and I will do the housework. In fact, I think she's going to pop in at any time now. She's been helping Ginny assemble that new cot they got from Magical Babies yesterday...what's wrong?'

Hermione's lips were trembling violently, and a lone tear was flowing down her cheek.

'No, no, please don't cry again!' Ron said desperately. 'Look, I'm sorry. I just want you and the baby to be well.'

'It's not that,' Hermione said and blew her nose in the dish rag. 'I feel so useless and ugly! I don't like just sitting at home and doing nothing. I can't sleep because my back aches constantly, and I can't sit or lie comfortably either. And now my feet don't fit in m-my s-shoes anymore! And you're probably repulsed by me, too. You haven't, you know, touched me for a while...'

'Hermione...' Ron swept a curl from Hermione's hot face. 'Remember last night? You haven't exactly been begging for me to touch you.' He reached to hug Hermione, but she wrenched herself away.

'I'm sorry, I'm being ridiculous. I feel great! I think I'll wash the windows now...'

'Oh, for heaven's sake,' Ron said exasperatedly. 'Don't you think that you're getting a tad swept away with the pregnancy hormones?'

'Nonsense.' Hermione sniffed and squirted bright green liquid into the sink. 'My hormones are fine and orderly, thank you very much. I'll start here, and oh...' Her hand dropped.

Ron took a deep breath.

'What now?'

'I I...it looks like I forgot to do the dishes. I'm a bit scatterbrained these days. Well, never mind, I'll have the brush do them first...oh, but our brush broke this morning. I was trying to clean the loo with it.'

Hermione's shoulders lurched. Ron detached the sticky bottle gently from her hand.

'It's all right.' He turned Hermione towards the bed room. 'You've worked way too hard today, and now it's time to rest.'

'But who's going to buy a new brush and clean the windows?'

'I am, or Mum.'

'You don't know how to clean the windows! You have to be _very_ particular with the spell, or otherwise the cloth will leave marks -'

'You know what, my little maniac?' Ron turned Hermione's chin to himself and placed a soft kiss on her lips. 'Why don't you sit in the same room and supervise me, and I promise to oblige your every command.' He brushed his nose against her cheek and blew in her ear so that a tingle went down her spine. 'And for your pleasure, I'll be..._naked_.'


End file.
